It's a Mom Thing
by Lisa O'Brien
Summary: REPOST - The Cohen Family faces a medical emergency that can either strengthen their bond, or pull them apart when Ryan suffers appendicitis.
1. Chapter 1

"It's a Mom Thing"

by Lisa O'Brien

Copyright September, 2003

SPOILERS: The Gamble, The Escape

CLASSIFICATION: Drama

RATING: PG-13 (Chapters 1 and 2)

SUMMARY: The Cohen Family faces a medical emergency that can either strengthen their bond, or pull them apart when Ryan suffers appendicitis.

DISCLAIMER: The OC, Ryan Atwood, Sandy, Kirsten and Seth Cohen and other characters mentioned in the story are owned Josh Schwartz, College Hill Pictures, Inc., Wonderland, Hypnotic and Fox Broadcasting. Without the wonderful work of Peter Gallagher, Kelly Rowan, Adam Brody and especially Benjamin McKenzie, the characters would be no fun for fan fic writers like me. No copyright infringement is intended, nor was any money made from this work.

FEEDBACK: Will be responded to most gratefully.

THANK YOU: To Anna for her beta reading, encouragement and insightful and constructive skills as an editor. To Ciera for her beta reading, encouragement and quick response.

**CHAPTER ONE**

**Tuesday, September 30**

**3:10 a.m.**

Ryan Atwood came out of a sound sleep and squinted at the clock on the nightstand, wondering groggily what could possibly wake him at this hour. A brief sharp pain just above his navel answered the question, reminding him that a serving and a half of Kirsten's spaghetti and meatballs - he hoped those things in the sauce had been meatballs - would've been polite. Three servings was excessive. And his stomach was going to make him pay.

Slowly, Ryan sat up, then got out of bed and shuffled to the bathroom, hoping a glass of water would put the fire out. He had free run of the Cohens' house, but he didn't want to push his luck by getting caught raiding the kitchen at three in the morning.

"You had to turn down the new mini fridge when the old one died," Ryan grumbled, switching on the overhead light in the bathroom and turning on the cold water faucet.

A second, sharper pain lanced through his gut, doubling him over. Ryan wrapped one arm around his middle and used the other to lift the lid of the toilet, hoping that he wouldn't throw up, but expecting the worst. After a few seconds, the pain went away and his dinner stayed down.

Still holding his stomach, Ryan filled a glass with water and took a tentative sip. He drank the water cautiously and slowly, then turned off the tap and set the glass back on the holder.

After turning off the bathroom light, Ryan made his way back to bed, glancing over at the Cohens' house to see if any lights were on. If there were, he could go in and get a Sprite - the water hadn't made things worse, but it hadn't exactly helped, either.

The house was dark, so Ryan crawled back into bed, shifting until he found a position that was comfortable and didn't bring the sharp pain back.

As he started to drop back off to sleep, the pool house suddenly felt colder than it had when he'd first gotten up. Too tired to get up and walk over to the thermostat, Ryan burrowed under the comforter.

**7:50 a.m.**

The alarm clock buzzed and Ryan reached out from beneath the comforter to hit the snooze button, which he'd been doing since the clock's first buzz woke him at 7:00. He peered out at the display, surprised to find that nearly an hour had gone by. It felt like he'd crawled back into bed just a few minutes ago.

Ryan didn't feel like going to school, let alone getting dressed, or even getting out of bed. Regular attendance and grades were a condition of his probation, so he didn't have a choice.

**8:10 a.m.**

After a hurried shower, Ryan dressed quickly, grabbed his shoes and trudged toward the door of the poolhouse, where his backpack waited on the chair next to the door. As he slung the pack over his right shoulder, his stomach cramped, doubling him over and causing him to let go of the pack and his shoes. The pack hit the chair, then tipped over to the floor, falling on top of the shoes.

"Shit," Ryan whispered, gritting his teeth and waiting for the cramp to pass. He'd broken out in a cold sweat by the time he was able to stand up straight. Protecting his stomach as he'd done earlier that morning, he crossed back to the bathroom, wishing he had time to take another shower. Since he couldn't, he had to settle for wiping his face and arms down with warm water on a washcloth.

Back at the door, Ryan gingerly picked up his shoes and the pack, settling it on his left shoulder this time.

**8:15 a.m.**

Seth Cohen was finishing his cereal as his parents discussed the latest installment in the soap opera that was Newport Beach. Some teenagers didn't like it when their parents forgot they were in the room, but that had never bothered Seth. He got all his best gossip that way. And it was really cool to finally have somebody to share the gossip with.

". . .it's not fair that Jimmy's getting all the blame for what happened. Julie's as much at fault. She's the reason Jimmy couldn't keep up with the bills." Kirsten turned away from Sandy to top off her coffee cup.

"I know that. But you gotta admit Jimmy could've just said no." Sandy Cohen passed his own cup to his wife.

"You don't know Julie." Kirsten snorted as she topped Sandy's coffee off.

The back door opened and Ryan came in, setting his shoes and backpack down inside the door and crossing to the refrigerator. "Morning," he mumbled as he opened the door and took out a can of Sprite.

Sandy looked at his watch. "You're running a little behind this morning," he commented, "You'll have to hurry up with breakfast if you want a ride to school."

Ryan popped the tab on the can and took a sip. "I can walk if you can't wait."

"Ryan, it's a little early for soft drinks. Why don't you have some orange juice, or some milk?" Kirsten suggested.

Ryan winced at the thought. "My stomach's a little . . . iffy this morning."

"Kirsten's cooking will do that to you," Sandy muttered.

"I heard that," Kirsten replied, lightly swatting Sandy's left bicep.

Ryan shook his head. "It's not that. If it was, you and Seth'd be sick, too."

"Not so, Ryan," Seth chimed in. "Dad and I have cast iron stomachs. It's the only way we've survived."

"Not you, too," Kirsten said, smiling as she ruffled Seth's dark hair. She sidestepped Sandy, moved around the end of the island in the center of the kitchen and turned her attention to Ryan. She was in "Mom Mode" and there was nothing Ryan could do to stop her. She placed the back of one hand on his forehead and steadied his head with the other hand on his neck. "You're a little warm, Ryan. What's wrong?"

A little uncomfortable with Kirsten's attention, Ryan moved away from her, shrugging as he did. "It's just my stomach. No big deal."

"Maybe you should stay home today and take it easy," Kirsten replied as she reached across the island for her coffee cup.

"I have to." Ryan sighed. "Probation, remember?"

"If you're sick, you're sick." Sandy set his coffee cup on the island and checked his watch. "We'd better get a move on, Seth."

Seth jumped down from his chair. "One minute," he promised, disappearing from the kitchen.

"Let me call the office and let them know I'll be working at home today, then I'll call Seth's pediatrician . . .."

"It's no big deal, really," Ryan interrupted. "I don't need to see a doctor to tell me I've got the flu, or a stomach virus." He shrugged. "I'm starting to feel better now, anyway."

Kirsten decided not to push the issue, even if it was against her better judgment. "Okay, but you're not going to school today and if you aren't feeling better tonight, you're going to the doctor tomorrow."

Ryan nodded. "Deal."

"Mom, I suddenly don't feel so great," Seth said as he shuffled into the kitchen.

"Not you, too." Kirsten sighed, stepping around Sandy again and going to the doorway, where her son stood, leaning against the frame of the door.

Kirsten led Seth into the kitchen and sat him in the chair he'd left a few minutes before. She placed a hand on his forehead, then rolled her eyes, removed her hand and turned to the counter. "Next time you use a hot cloth to give yourself a fever, pat your forehead," she scolded, picking up a towel and wiping his face.

Seth's mouth gaped and he stared at her, eyes wide and innocent. "I really don't feel good, Mom," he said, trying to sound whiny and sick. The look on his mother's face signaled his failure.

"Warm and clammy doesn't happen, Seth." Kirsten swatted him with the towel. "Have a good day at school." She kissed his forehead.

"C'mon, Seth," Sandy ordered, escorting his son from the kitchen.

Ryan settled into a chair and leaned against the counter. "You don't need to work at home today. I'll probably just go back to the poolhouse and sleep, anyway."

"All right. You need to eat something, so can I at least make you some toast before I go? And why don't you stay in here, since you don't have a fridge or any food in the poolhouse," Kirsten suggested.

"Okay to staying here, but no thanks on the toast." Ryan put a hand on his stomach. "I just wanna go back to sleep."

Kirsten put a hand on Ryan's left shoulder and gently squeezed it. "I'll come by to check on you at lunch. And you've got the number at the office. If you need me, I'm five minutes away."

"Thanks." Ryan slowly rose from the chair, wincing as he did.

"Ryan, are you sure about staying by yourself? It's no trouble." Kirsten smiled. "Hell, I get more done at home than I do at the office anyway."

Ryan managed a smile. "I promise to call if I need you." He gestured toward the den. "Right now, I'm gonna crash on your couch."

Kirsten watched as Ryan went into the den, then set her cup in the sink and left the kitchen to get her briefcase and purse.

**12:20 p.m.**

Ryan's plan for the day hadn't worked out at all. He wasn't sure whether the couch, the waves of heat and chill passing through his body or the pain in his stomach had kept him awake and it mattered less and less as the minutes of misery slowly passed. He didn't remember ever being this sick in his entire life. Not when he had his tonsils out. Not when he had chickenpox. Then again, he didn't think he'd want to remember being this sick. Seeing a doctor was definitely starting to seem like a good idea.

Ryan was cold again, so he pulled a blanket from the floor and wrapped it around his shoulders, shifting on the couch until his stomach settled back to the constant ache, rather than sharp pain. A wave of nausea struck, bringing with it another cold sweat that drenched Ryan's face, neck and chest. He struggled up from the couch, throwing off the blanket, and stumbling into the hallway and the tiny bathroom, barely making it in time.

Every time his stomach heaved, the pain kicked up a notch. All Ryan could do was close his eyes and hang on to the toilet, hoping he wasn't making too much noise between heaves. The last thing the Cohens needed was for their pet juvenile delinquent to scare the Coopers, or the other neighbors. He couldn't tell because the roaring in his ears was so loud.

The heaves finally stopped after what seemed like hours. Ryan shifted slightly and leaned his head against the cool porcelain of the tank, taking shallow breaths and praying _that_ wouldn't happen again.

Distantly, Ryan heard knocking, but he was too worn-out to get up and answer the front door.

". . . door . . . Ryan? . . . okay . . . Ryan?" Kirsten's voice was coming through the bathroom door.

Keeping his eyes closed, Ryan spat into the toilet and dropped the lid. "Just a sec," he called. Wearily, he pulled himself to his feet and, holding onto the counter for dear life, fumbled with the doorknob.

When he finally got the door open, Ryan found himself facing Kirsten, who looked pretty worried.

"I got sick." He smiled weakly and hoped that reassured her.

Kirsten gently guided Ryan out of the bathroom, placing her right arm around his shoulders and her left hand on his forehead. "Your fever's gone up," she stated.

"I can make it," Ryan muttered, pulling away and instantly regretting it as the room spun.

"I've got you," Kirsten said quietly, steadying Ryan and guiding him back to the den.

Ryan collapsed onto the couch, reaching for the blanket on the floor.

Kirsten briefly took the blanket, shook it out, then gently settled it over Ryan. She then knelt and gently brushed back the hair clinging to his forehead. "I'm going to get you something for your fever and then call Seth's doctor."

"Please, don't," Ryan said weakly. "I don't think I could take riding in the car." He paused and swallowed. "And I don't wanna . . . you know, mess up your car."

Kirsten stood. "I'll be right back. Do you need another Sprite?"

Ryan nodded. "Thanks." Once Kirsten was gone, he winced and shifted on the couch, hoping he'd find some place that was comfortable before she got back. The truth was that doctors cost money he didn't have. And he still wasn't comfortable with the notion that the Cohens were financially responsible for him just because they were his guardians.

If he'd still been living in Chino with his mother, he would've dragged himself to one of the Medicaid clinics, but he didn't think there were any of those in Newport Beach.

Kirsten returned carrying a tray, which held a bottle of aspirin, a glass of ice, a can of Sprite, a pack of saltine crackers and something that Ryan guessed might be a thermometer, although he'd didn't remember every seeing one so fancy. His mother had always used an old fashioned thermometer, which she usually couldn't read.

Kirsten set the tray on the table. "Before you drink anything, I want to check your temperature."

Ryan stared dubiously at the thermometer.

Kirsten caught the look and laughed. "It goes in your ear." She knelt, brushed the hair from Ryan's left ear and gently placed the thermometer. It beeped after just a second or two and she lifted it to read the display. "102." She removed the cover and set the thermometer back on the tray.

"That's bad, huh?" Ryan asked, sitting up slightly and turning toward the coffee table.

"Well, no, not that bad. It's still a low grade fever," Kirsten said, opening the crackers.

Ryan made a face and shook his head. "I'm not hungry."

"You need to try to put something on your stomach," she advised, then closed the pack and set the crackers down. "Maybe later." She picked up the aspirin and opened the bottle.

Ryan held his hand out, waiting as she shook two into the palm. Without thinking, he reached toward the can of Sprite on the tray and groaned when sharp pain lanced through his side.

"I'll get it," Kirsten said quietly, pouring Sprite into the glass, then handing it to Ryan.

"Thanks," Ryan said quietly, popping the aspirin into his mouth and then washing them down with half the glass of Sprite.

"Take it easy on that."

Ryan smiled sheepishly. "Forgot." He sipped the remaining half of the soda. He felt funny handing the glass back to Kirsten, but he knew better than to trying leaning toward the table again.

Kirsten set the glass on the tray, replaced the lid on the bottle of aspirin, then sat on the arm of the couch. "Ryan, I know our deal was that you wouldn't go to the doctor unless you didn't feel better tonight. And I'm going to hold up my end."

Ryan nodded warily, debating whether or not to tell Kirsten the real reason he didn't want to go to a doctor. "There's a but there, isn't there?"

Kirsten smiled slightly. "I think calling Seth's doctor would be a good idea. You're running a fever and you're a little unsteady on your feet."

"Sure, that's fine." Ryan shrugged.

"When did you start feeling sick?"

"This morning . . . early."

"Have you been vomiting since then?" Kirsten asked, a hint of worry in her voice.

Ryan shook his head. "No, that was the first time."

"What about earlier, when you leaned over? Are you having pains in your stomach, on top of the nausea?"

"I think I might have pulled something when I puked . . . I mean, threw up." That wasn't exactly the truth. The sharp pain had been there when his stomach first woke him up. But he could've pulled a muscle in the pool, or on his bike and just not realized it at the time.

Kirsten rose from the arm of the couch. "All right, I know how much you 16 year olds hate talking about your bodily functions, so I'll let you get some rest."

"Thanks," Ryan said gratefully, carefully lowering himself back to the couch. "If you need to go back to work . . .."

"No way, no how, Ryan," Kirsten said emphatically. "Someone needs to be here with you." She stopped as Ryan frowned. "What's wrong?"

"I don't want you worry about me." Ryan paused. "I guess 'cause I'm not used to it."

"Would you be worried about me if I were sick?" Kirsten asked.

"Well, yeah . . .."

"Then that settles it," Kirsten informed, leaning over and tucking the blanket around Ryan's shoulders. She then smoothed the hair from Ryan's forehead and placed the remote for the television on top of the blanket, next to his right knee. "Rest and call me if you need anything."

Ryan nodded. "Thanks." He closed his eyes as Kirsten left the room, listening as she ran water into something. He realized she was making coffee when he heard the gurgle of the coffeemaker. Before the smell of coffee drifted into the den, he was asleep.

**4:15 p.m.**

Kirsten heard the front door open and rushed to intercept whoever it was before they made too much noise.

"Mommy . . . I'm home!" Seth called in a bad impression of Desi Arnaz.

Kirsten entered the foyer. "Shhhhh," she hissed, "Ryan's asleep in the den."

Seth gave her the typical teenage Mom-you-know-nothing look that was half condescending smile and half exasperation, with a roll of the eyes thrown in to drive the point home. "I've got some bad news for you, Mom." He kept his voice low, in spite of the attitude. "Ryan's 16 _years_ old, not 16 months old."

Kirsten smiled and rolled her eyes at her son. "He needs to rest."

"Mom, Ryan's a heavy and I do mean _heavy_ sleeper. A full-scale tactical nuclear strike couldn't wake him up. A marching band parading around the couch couldn't wake him up. The Indianapolis 500 roaring around the den couldn't wake him up," Seth informed, barely pausing to breathe as he painted the picture for his mother.

"I don't want to take any chances," Kirsten responded, escorting her son into the living room. "You can do your homework in here, instead of the den."

Seth nodded. "Okay, your prerogative." He turned serious. "He must be pretty sick for you to be so worried."

"I talked to Dr. Michaels, and he thinks it's just a stomach virus." Kirsten paused. "Was Ryan feeling okay yesterday?"

Seth shrugged. "I guess. We went down to the pier and he seemed fine." He cocked his head slightly. "Then again, Ryan doesn't complain as much as your average teenager. Penny Thompson broke a fingernail on her locker once and you would've thought she'd had her hand amputated."

Kirsten smiled. "Breaking a nail can be extremely painful."

"It was a fake nail, Mom." Seth rolled his eyes, set his backpack on the coffee table and unzipped it.

The front door opened and Sandy walked in, setting his briefcase on the floor, then walking into the living room.

"You're home early," Kirsten commented quietly.

"Yeah, Dad, what's up?" Seth whispered.

"My 4:30 canceled," Sandy whispered back, then frowned. "Why are we whispering?"

"Ryan's asleep in the den and Mom's afraid normal voice tones'll wake him up."

Sandy snorted. "Not in this dimension. I walked past the poolhouse last Saturday on my way out to surf and his alarm was going like gangbusters. Ryan was probably the only one in the neighborhood that _didn't_ hear it."

"He's had a rough day, guys," Kirsten responded defensively. "He's been sick twice since lunchtime, which we all know isn't fun."

"Ryan won't even know we're here," Sandy promised, quietly climbing the stairs.

**6:15 p.m.**

Early evening shadows were creeping across the den when Ryan woke for the third time since Kirsten had gotten home at lunch. He held his breath, waiting for the wave of nausea he'd awakened to the last two times, dreading another turn driving the porcelain bus. To his relief, his stomach stayed settled and he actually felt better than he had during the afternoon.

Ryan carefully sat up, then stood and went into the kitchen, opening the fridge and getting a can of Sprite. He then followed the sound of the quiet voices of the Cohen family through the kitchen and into the dining room.

"It lives." Seth grinned as Ryan entered the dining room.

"Barely," Ryan returned, sitting down and popping the top on the can of soda. He took a sip.

Kirsten rose. "Let me get you a glass and some ice."

"This is fine," Ryan called after her.

"Seth and I picked up Chinese, if you feel up to it," Sandy informed.

The thought of food made Ryan's stomach turn and he wrinkled his nose. "Pass," he said quietly, shaking his head.

Kirsten returned to the dining room with a glass of ice, which she set in front of Ryan. She also had the thermometer. "Just a quick check," she advised.

"Mom! We're eating over here," Seth scolded.

"Hush, Seth," Kirsten returned, lifting the thermometer as it beeped. "You're down to 100."

"Yay," Ryan said listlessly as Kirsten briefly disappeared into the kitchen, then returned.

"Sandy got extra steamed rice," Kirsten began, taking a bowl and fork from the sideboard behind Sandy's chair. She opened a small container and placed a few forkfuls into the bowl. "I know you're not hungry, but you need something on your stomach." She set the bowl down next to Ryan's glass. "Just a little, okay?"

It seemed like a good idea, and Ryan was too tired to argue, especially with a mother who had spent half the day waiting on him hand and foot. Something plain couldn't do too much harm, and maybe taking aspirin on an empty stomach was what had made him so sick the last time he woke up.

"Ryan?" Kirsten asked, tone worried.

"What?" Ryan looked up at her. She looked worried, too. "Sorry . . . spaced out for a second." He picked up the fork and took a small bite. The rice was bland and went down without any problems. He just hoped it would stay down.

Kirsten sat down, sipped from her wine glass and then picked up her fork again. She kept one eye on Ryan as she ate.

"By the way, Ryan," Seth began, "And I know this is gonna make you feel way, _way_ better, I picked up your homework." He paused dramatically. "And Marissa came by, but Mom wouldn't let her wake you up. That was after your last trip . . . well, you know."

"Yeah, that's great, Seth," Ryan said absently, pushing rice around in the bowl and trying to work up to a second bite of the stuff.

"Seth!" Kirsten exclaimed. "I told Marissa you'd call her tonight."

"Sure." Ryan's concentration was centered on chewing and swallowing his third bite of rice. He'd only made a little dent, but he couldn't eat any more. The smell of the Cohens' food was starting to bother him a little, so he pushed the bowl away and reached for the can of Sprite with his left hand, pouring a little over the ice, then setting the can down and picking up the glass.

"Had enough?" Kirsten asked.

Ryan nodded, sipping from the glass and trying to ignore the spicy and oily smells coming off the Cohens' dinner plates.

"Maybe it's 'cause we're all watching," Sandy suggested, "You know, sort of like a watched pot."

"All right." Kirsten turned to Seth. "So what's with this new game you're trying to convince your dad and me to get for you?"

"_Troll Quest IV_?" Seth began, "I played a demo at Best Buy when Dad was trying to make them fix the battery on his laptop. Ryan played it, too. It was awesome, wasn't it, Ryan?"

Ryan's stomach did a flip, then a flop, causing a quick flight from the table.

"See, _that's_ how awesome it was," Seth commented as Ryan stumbled from the dining room.

Ryan barely made it into the bathroom as his stomach heaved and the rice and Sprite rose into his throat. He kicked the door, barely hearing it slam as he dropped to his knees, throwing the lid of the toilet up and clinging to the bowl for dear life.

**6:30 p.m.**

Kirsten checked her watch, then rose from the table. "I'm going to check on Ryan."

"Kirsten, give the kid a little privacy. If he needs you, he'll call."

"Yeah, Mom, there's nothing worse than puking your guts out with somebody standing over you," Seth said. "I know I hate it."

Kirsten ignored them. Looking back on things later, she was glad she did. She was barely out of the dining room when a strange feeling of unease crept up on her. Something was wrong, but she didn't know what. She paused, listening to the familiar and normal sounds of the house. The soft thud from behind the closed door of the bathroom wasn't normal.

"Please don't be locked." Kirsten grasped the knob and turned it. Ryan was on the floor, curled into a fetal position. "Sandy?" She dropped to her knees next to Ryan and carefully turned him onto his back. "Ryan, can you hear me?"

Ryan squinted up at Kirsten. "It hurts . . ." He gasped and squeezed his eyes shut. "Make it stop." He moaned and rolled away from her, onto his left side.

"We will," Kirsten assured quietly. "Sandy!" Her voice was louder and more urgent this time. "Sandy!"

Sandy appeared in the doorway, the portable phone from the kitchen to his right ear. "We need paramedics . . . Yes, that's the address."

Kirsten turned back to Ryan, feeling useless because he was in so much pain and she didn't know what to do for him. "Help is on the way, Ryan. Just hang on."

"Our foster son . . . he's 16 . . . vomiting . . . severe abdominal pain . . . I don't know when it started. . .."

"This morning," Kirsten informed her husband.

"It started this morning. Would you just get someone out here?" Sandy's normally calm tone was wearing thin. "I'm sorry. . . it's hard to stay calm in this kinda situation."

"Ryan? Mom, what's wrong with him?" Seth knelt in the open door, just behind Ryan's head.

Kirsten shook her head. "We're not sure." She turned to her son. "Your dad called the paramedics. Honey, I need you to go out front, open the gate and wait for them."

"Why can't Dad go? He's on the phone with 911."

"Go, Seth," Kirsten ordered. "Please." She briefly watched Seth as he stood and left the bathroom, muttering protests. Then she turned back to Ryan, feeling helpless and hating it.

"I don't . . . think . . . I can. . .." Ryan gasped and seemed to pull further in on himself. "Take . . . this. . .."

Kirsten stroked Ryan's hair. "I wish I could take it away, honey, but I can't." She looked up at Sandy, who was still quietly updating the 911 operator. "How much longer?"

"How much longer?" Sandy repeated her question, then looked over at Kirsten. "She's checking." He paused, "They just turned in . . . tell them our son's waiting out front."

"They're almost here," Kirsten repeated as Ryan groaned. She stroked his hair and forehead. "Help's almost here." She wasn't sure whom she was trying to reassure.

"He's in here." Seth's voice echoed from the foyer, followed by the clatter of wheels and heavy footsteps on the tile floor.

"What's his name?" a male voice asked.

"Ryan Atwood. He's really, really sick," Seth responded.

"We'll take good care of him," a female voice this time.

Kirsten stood as the paramedics wheeled a stretcher laden with equipment into the hall.

"Please . . . don't leave. . .." Ryan's voice was weak.

"I'm just getting out of the way." Kirsten knelt briefly next to Ryan. "I'll be right here," she promised, then moved out of the way.

The female paramedic knelt on Ryan's left side. "Ryan, we need to put you on your back." She began gently guiding Ryan back toward her male partner, who knelt to Ryan's right side.

"No . . .." Ryan moaned as the woman moved him.

"Sorry," the woman said quietly, "Is it your right side?"

Ryan groaned, then nodded.

"We'll have you fixed up in no time, pal," the male paramedic assured him.

"I'm just gonna take your pulse," the female paramedic advised, lifting his left arm and placing two fingers on the inside of his wrist.

The male paramedic was moving boxes and equipment from the gurney to the floor of the room. He opened the first box, which looked like a radio. The second box looked like a tackle box filled with I.V. bags, syringes and small bottles.

"HOAG, this is County 26, we have a white male, age 16, severe abdominal pain, fever, vomiting." The male paramedic paused and turned to Kirsten. "When did the symptoms start?"

"This morning. We thought it was just a virus." Kirsten knew how irresponsible the statement sounded. "I found him on the floor right before my husband called." That was when she noticed the bottle of aspirin on the counter. "Oh, God." She stepped forward and picked it up. She realized she'd grabbed the first thing she found in the medicine cabinet. "I've been giving him aspirin, instead of ibuprofen for his fever."

The paramedic took the bottle. "HOAG, symptoms are worse since this morning. Advise the patient was given aspirin for fever. Stand by for vitals."

"10-4, 26." A female voice came from the radio, which surprised Kirsten. "26, how much aspirin was ingested?"

"Two at about noon and two at 4:00 this afternoon," Kirsten answered the radio's question.

The man briefly examined the bottle. "Two doses, HOAG, 250 mgs. Last dose was approximately two and a half hours ago." He looked over at his partner, who was measuring Ryan's blood pressure. "Vitals?" He had a small pad and pen ready.

"Temp's 103.1, pulse 125, B.P. 90/60, respirations rapid and shallow at 27." She turned from her partner, back to Ryan. "Ryan, I need to check your belly, now." She gently lifted his shirt, drawing a hiss from Ryan as she brushed his lower right side. "Slight distension." She paused. She put a hand on the center of Ryan's stomach, then moved it to his left side, then to his right.

"No . . . don't," Ryan moaned, wrapping his arms around his stomach and curling to his left.

"Sorry, Ryan." The woman gently guided Ryan back to his back. "Right lower quadrant, with guarding."

The male paramedic finished writing, then picked up the radio handset. "HOAG, County 26, we have vitals."

"Go ahead, 26."

"Temp 103.1, Pulse 125, B.P. 90/60, respirations rapid, shallow at 27. Slight distension of the abdomen, severe right lower quadrant pain and guarding."

"Copy, 26. Start O2, 5 liters, non-rebreather, an I.V. D5W/Ringers solution. Place cool packs under the arms and in the groin and transport a.s.a.p."

"Copy, HOAG, O2, 5 liters, non-rebreather, I.V. D5W/Ringers, cool packs and transport."

"Got the I.V.," the woman announced, grabbing a bag of clear fluid from the box and an I.V. set-up. "Okay, Ryan, you're gonna feel a little stick."

"Hate . . . needles," Ryan mumbled.

"So do I." The woman smiled down at Ryan. She tore open the set-up package, quickly swabbed a spot on the back of Ryan's left hand and poised above it with the needle.

Kirsten hadn't realized Sandy was next to her and had an arm around her until she turned away from the sight of the needle going into Ryan's hand. Her husband gently squeezed her, signaling that _that_ part was over.

The paramedic was taping the needle down when Kirsten turned back. Kirsten turned to find Seth leaning against the wall behind them. She started to go to him, but he stepped to the side and crossed his arms. Kirsten sighed and turned her attention back to Ryan.

The female paramedic had finished starting the I.V. and handed the bag to her partner, then moved to Ryan's feet. "Okay, Ryan, we're going to get you on the gurney, then we're on our way."

"No . . . please . . . don't." Ryan weakly shook his head.

"We're sorry, pal, but it's the only way to get you to the hospital." The male paramedic patted Ryan's left shoulder. "We'll be real careful."

"No," Ryan protested weakly.

Seth stepped into the room and knelt next to the male paramedic. "You heard the man, Ryan, it's gotta be done." He offered his hand. "Wanna squeeze my hand?"

Ryan shook his head, then looked up at the male paramedic behind his head and down at the female paramedic at his feet.

Kirsten saw Ryan's body tense. "Wait. Can't you give him something for the pain first?"

"We can only give medications ordered by the doctor you heard on the radio," the male paramedic explained.

"Then call her back and ask her to order something." Kirsten's tone made it clear that she wasn't making a request. "It hurts him to move."

"Ma'am, pain killers would mask Ryan's symptoms. And that would delay the doctors figuring out what's wrong with him." The female paramedic looked down at Ryan. "Just relax and let us do all the work, okay?"

"On 3," the male paramedic began. "1-2-3."

In one move, the two paramedics lifted Ryan and smoothly moved him to the gurney. Ryan let out a strangled cry, then went limp.

"Is he okay? What happened?" Seth asked anxiously.

The female paramedic was checking Ryan's blood pressure. "He's okay. Just unconscious." She pulled a tray from the black box, pulled out three blue packs, then replaced the tray. After snapping each of the packs, she placed one under each armpit and the third between his thighs, then covered Ryan with a blanket and fastened the chest and leg straps on the gurney. "Can you get the O2?"

"Got it." The male paramedic placed a clear mask over Ryan's nose and mouth while his partner closed the radio and drug box and placed each of them at the foot of the gurney. A green oxygen bottle went between Ryan's knees, on top of the blankets.

"We ready to roll?" The female paramedic asked.

The male paramedic took a brief look around the room, then nodded. "Ready to roll."

Sandy stepped forward. "Do you need a hand on the stairs out front?"

"Thanks, we've got it." The female paramedic winked. "We get lots of practice."

Kirsten gently pulled Seth out of the way. "I'm sorry," she said quietly.

The paramedics dropped the wheels of the gurney, rolled it out of the bathroom, turning it in the hall toward the front door. Seth forlornly watched them go, then hugged Kirsten, resting his head on her shoulder. She kissed his temple and smoothed his dark, unruly hair in the same way she'd smoothed Ryan's hair earlier.

"C'mon," Kirsten said quietly, guiding Seth into the hall.

The paramedics were already on the driveway and Kirsten and her son had to hurry to catch up to them as they rolled Ryan toward the open doors at the back of the ambulance.

"Sandy, I'm going with Ryan," Kirsten said quietly. "Meet us at HOAG."

Sandy nodded and turned to his son. "We'll call you from the hospital, Seth. Once we know something."

"No way," Seth protested. "I'll ride with Mom and Ryan."

"They'll probably only let one of us ride with him," Sandy said gently. "Let your mom go. We'll meet her at the hospital. Okay?"

Seth started to argue, then stopped and nodded.

Kirsten quickly kissed her son's cheek, then kissed Sandy and hurried to the open rear doors of the ambulance. She had one foot on the step leading inside when the male paramedic stopped her.

"Sorry, ma'am, you'll have to ride up front." He gently pulled Kirsten back, then closed the doors.

Kirsten hurried to the passenger side at the front of the ambulance, opened the door and climbed up into the seat. She turned in her seat as the ambulance pulled forward, watching her husband and son as they grew smaller and smaller framed in the rear window. When she turned her attention to Ryan, whose eyes remained closed she had mixed feelings - relieved that he wasn't in pain, but worried that he was still unconscious.


	2. Chapter 2

See Chapter 1 for Disclaimers

"It's a Mom Thing"

by Lisa O'Brien

Copyright September, 2003

**CHAPTER TWO**

**Tuesday, September 30**

**7:25 p.m.**

Ryan slowly became aware of the movement of the ambulance and the sound of the siren. He looked for Kirsten when he finally opened his eyes and was disappointed that she wasn't there. She hadn't kept her promise to stay with him.

"Ryan, we're on our way to the hospital. I need you to try and stay with me, okay?" The female paramedic's voice came from above and behind his head.

There was something over his nose and mouth and a metallic smell coming from whatever it was. Ryan wanted to take it off, but couldn't move his arms. That made him panic.

There were hands on his shoulders, holding him down. "Ryan, calm down!" The voice was female and sharp, but it wasn't Kirsten's. "You need to calm down."

"Kir . . . Kirsten." Ryan hoped he was shouting, but he couldn't tell over the siren and the ringing in his ears. He ignored the voice ordering him to calm down and continued struggling to get up, stopping only when the pain in his side made him see stars and a black lens slowly closed in on his limited vision.

"You're okay, Ryan." The woman's voice was far away. ". . . stay . . . ma'am. . .."

"Ryan . . . answer me, Ryan." Kirsten's voice barely penetrated the fog in Ryan's head. "Ryan, you're okay. You're strapped on the gurney so you don't fall off. Like a seat belt."

The sound of the siren and Kirsten's voice were closer now.

"They wouldn't let me ride in back with you, but I'm right here." Kirsten's voice continued. "Did you hear me, Ryan?"

It took some effort, but Ryan managed to pull his eyes open and nod in answer to Kirsten's question.

"He nodded," the female paramedic stated, then smiled down at him. "I think that means he heard you."

"Sorry," Ryan muttered from beneath the mask.

"It's okay. It's a scary way to wake up." A pen light appeared above him. "I'm gonna check your pupils."

Ryan grimaced as the woman held open his left eye and shined the light back and forth, then repeated the process on his right eye. He swallowed and fought a brief wave of nausea when she was finished.

"Try and stay with me, Ryan."

Ryan struggled to open his eyes, feeling the ambulance stop, then move backwards.

The ambulance stopped and the rear doors flew open from the outside, startling Ryan and bringing his attention to his feet, where white coated arms and bare ones reached in and grabbed the gurney. He looked for Kirsten, but couldn't find her. He groaned and the black lens closed again as the wheels clattered to the ground.

The gurney was passing under a door frame when Ryan opened his eyes. He stared up at ceiling tiles and fluorescent lights as they passed over him, then had to close his eyes on a wave of nausea.

"Ryan Atwood, 16, right lower quadrant pain, temp 103.1 at the scene." Ryan thought the voice belonged to the female paramedic, but he wasn't sure. "He's tachy, diaphoretic, brief LOC before transport and he's been in and out since he came to. Parents reported that symptoms of vomiting and abdominal pain started this morning. Mom found him on the floor of the bathroom at about 6:30."

The gurney was moving fast, but Ryan chanced opening his eyes, turning his head to the side, instead of looking up.

"Ryan, I'm Dr. Waltham." A hand tapped his shoulder. "Ryan?"

Ryan looked up to find a young man's face above him. He wondered how the man was keeping up with the gurney.

"Ryan? Are you with me, Ryan?"

Ryan blinked, then nodded.

"Can you tell me which came first, the vomiting or the pain in your stomach?" Ryan couldn't remember the doctor's name, even though he'd just told him. "Ryan?"

Ryan frowned, trying to remember the answer to the question and the doctor's name. "Stomach," he finally answered, deciding to give up on the doctor's name.

"Trauma 3?" A different woman's voice this time.

"Let's go for it." The doctor appeared above him again. "We're gonna have you feeling better in no time."

The gurney turned and rapidly approached two very big, very solid looking doors. It was gonna hurt like Hell when it hit them. "Don't." Ryan gasped, tensing. "Don't."

"You're okay, pal." That voice had to be the other paramedic. He'd called him pal, instead of Ryan.

To Ryan's amazement and relief, the doors swished open before the foot of the gurney touched them. He craned his head back, watching as they swung closed all by themselves. The gurney turned and stopped next to a high bed, with poles and trays scattered around it. Things were picked up from the gurney and disappeared from Ryan's view. That could only mean they were going to move him. Again. It was going to hurt. Again.

"Please, don't," Ryan began, as someone unstrapped him, then the doctor, paramedics and two women gathered around him. They hadn't heard him, but he had to make them. He reached up for the mask over his nose and mouth, but was stopped by a soft hand. "Don't," he whispered.

"Toward me, on 3," the doctor's voice ordered. "1-2-3."

Ryan gritted his teeth and closed his eyes as he slid to the left. The pain wasn't as sharp, but his vision grayed and the voices in the room stopped speaking in words he could understand.

". . . nasal canula. Get CBC, check his chem panel, urinalysis, BUN and creatinine."

Ryan guessed that the voice belonged to the doctor. "And call radiology - if they don't have an opening for CT, order a portable KUB and chest films."

Ryan didn't know what much of those things were and none of them sounded good.

"Parents on the way in?" The doctor asked the paramedics as they wheeled the gurney and all their stuff to the door.

"Mom rode in," the female paramedic responded, tapping a large button inside the doors, which made them swing open.

"Who's the surgeon on call?" The doctor must've been asking one of the two women, because the paramedics were gone and the doors had closed.

"Jenkins, thank God," one of the women snickered.

Ryan guessed that meant Jenkins was a good doctor, not a bad one.

"Steph, would you call Jenkins and get her down for a surgical consult?" This doctor was way more polite than the one he'd seen when he had tonsillitis. "Tonya, would you get the tests started and stay with Ryan while I go get consent from mom?"

Ryan heard the doors open and watched one of the women leave the room.

"Check. And I'll have the lab rush your tests, Dr. Waltham."

"Thanks, Tonya, you're the Woman." The doctor, Waltham, disappeared through the doors.

The wheels of a tray squeaked as it was rolled over to the right side of the bed.

"Ryan, my name's Tonya. I'm a nurse. The first thing we're gonna do is switch that mask for something more comfortable, okay?"

Ryan nodded, watching as Tonya opened a package, pulled out a roll of plastic tubing, then disappeared behind him. When she reappeared, she took the mask from his nose and mouth, then lifted his head and placed something under his nose.

"How's that?" she asked, picking the green bottle up from the bed and turning away with it.

Ryan absently touched the plastic. "Smells . . . funny."

"It's just oxygen," Tonya assured. She held up a brown, plastic clip. "This will monitor the level of oxygen in your blood. It goes right here," she lifted his right hand and placed the clip on the tip of his index finger. "Doesn't hurt a bit, does it?"

Ryan shook his head. Tonya had started setting vials with red, purple and green stoppers on the tray. He counted six and groaned.

"Have you ever had blood drawn before?"

If he had, Ryan didn't remember. He shook his head.

"It's not as bad as it looks." Tonya picked up a small needle, with a small, plastic barrel attached to it. "I only have to stick you once with this really tiny needle." She picked up one of the vials and snapped it into the barrel. "See?" At Ryan's nod, she continued, "I need to take the samples from your right arm, because you've got fluids going into your left arm. Have you had any problems with your right arm?"

"It hurts. . . when I move . . . it."

"Okay, well, I don't need to move it much."

Ryan watched warily as Tonya lifted his right arm and wrapped a long piece of rubber tubing around it.

"Not too tight?"

Ryan shook his head, then watched as Tonya swabbed the inside of his elbow, then patted it with two fingers.

"You've got good, strong veins," Tonya commented. "This might sting."

It did and Ryan hissed, but continued watching. He knew he should've turned his head, but he couldn't. He couldn't take his eyes off the vials as they filled one after the other. The last vial blurred, then both it and his arm doubled, which was followed by the strange sensation of cotton inside his ears and head.

"Oh . . . boy. . .." Then the room went black.

**7:45 p.m.**

Sandy had tried to talk to his son during the ride to HOAG, but he'd realized halfway there that he might as well have been riding with the Sphinx itself. There was such a fine line between being honest with your kids and telling them more than they could handle. Sandy had crossed that line when Kirsten's mother was sick, and it took both Kirsten and Seth a long time to forgive him. He wondered if he'd crossed it again tonight. He was regretting not telling Seth that Ryan would be fine and everything would be okay and then praying that he hadn't been wrong.

Sandy found the closest parking space to the emergency room that he could and pulled into it. Once he'd put the car in park and turned it off, he leaned back and pulled Kirsten's purse from the back seat. "Your mom's gonna appreciate this."

"This sucks beyond all the suckiest things in the world," Seth said quietly. "Ryan's already had a crappy life. Hasn't he been through enough?"

Sandy reached over and gently squeezed his son's shoulder. "People get sick sometimes, Seth." He paused, searching for the right words to say next. "HOAG's a good hospital. They'll take good care of Ryan."

"What if he's. . .." Seth's voice cracked. "What if he's really sick, like Grandma was? What if he dies? What if the State says you and Mom didn't take good care of him and it was your fault? What if his mother sues us?" He turned away, staring out the passenger window and biting his lower lip.

"I think you're getting way ahead of the situation, Seth," Sandy said gently. "We don't even know what's wrong with Ryan. And whatever happens, we'll deal with it. We'll get through it. And we'll help Ryan get through it." He put his hand on the key, which was still in the ignition. "If you'd rather wait at home. . .."

Seth swiped at his eyes. "I'm staying." He turned to his father. "Thanks, Dad."

Sandy pulled the key from the ignition, then got out of the car, carrying the bag. He met Seth on the passenger side and put an arm around his shoulders, steering them both toward the doors into the emergency room.

After a few steps, Seth ducked out from under Sandy's arm. "I _can_ walk, Dad."

"My bad," Sandy returned, following the boy across the parking lot and drive to the glass doors leading into the hospital.

They both paused as the stepped into the brightly lit hall, both searching for Kirsten. Seth pointed. "There's Mom."

Kirsten must have heard him, because she looked up, then stood and met them between the doors and the waiting area. She handed a clipboard to her husband. "I got halfway through the paperwork."

"We brought your purse." Sandy handed Kirsten the bag.

"Thanks." Kirsten turned to Seth. "How're you doing?"

"More important question for ya. How's Ryan?"

Kirsten shook her head. "The doctor came out right after we got here," she began. "Seth, why don't you grab a soda and save us some chairs in the waiting room?"

"Mom, I'm 16. And if you and Dad can talk about Jimmy Cooper and the four million bucks he stole in front of me, then you sure as Hell can talk about whatever's wrong with Ryan." Seth paused for a deep breath. "God knows I care a Hell of a lot more about that."

"Seth," Sandy said sharply.

"No, Sandy. He's right." Kirsten reached out and pulled Seth into a hug. He briefly stiffened, then relaxed and returned her embrace. "I'm sorry," she whispered.

"It's okay, Mom."

Kirsten stepped away from Seth after a minute. "The doctor isn't sure, yet. He's waiting on some tests." She took a deep breath. "He said it might be an intestinal blockage, or appendicitis, or a perforated ulcer," she paused. "Those are the top three."

"First one - bad, second one - not so bad, last one - really, really, really bad," Seth muttered. "Oh, wow . . . I think I need to sit down now."

**8:00 p.m.**

The door of the trauma room opened and Tonya looked up from Ryan's chart. Dr. Waltham's long legs crossed the distance from the door in three strides. "He passed out when I was drawing blood." She handed the chart to Dr. Waltham.

"His mom said he hasn't kept anything down today. Dehydration would explain the heart rate and BP." Dr. Waltham shook Ryan's shoulder. "Ryan? Ryan, it's Dr. Waltham. Open your eyes, Ryan."

The effort for Ryan to open his eyes was plain. Finally, the deep blue eyes opened and blinked up at them.

"How're his vitals?" Waltham asked.

"Heart rate's 120, B.P.'s still 90/60. Pulse ox is at 95% on O2," Tonya recited from the chart.

"Let's go ahead and put him on a monitor," Dr. Waltham ordered.

Tonya retrieved a package of leads from a drawer behind her and placed them on the tray next to the doctor. She then rolled a portable cardiac monitor from the wall.

Dr. Waltham turned to Ryan. "Ryan, I know your belly's hurting, but to figure out what's going on, I need to examine you."

"Can' I jus' . . . tell you?" Ryan's voice was raspy and pain filled.

Dr. Waltham shook his head. "Afraid not," he said sincerely. "Tonya, let's get another line in." He turned back to Ryan. "When did the pain start?"

Tonya got a bag of fluid and an I.V. set-up kit from the supply cabinet and set them out on the tray.

"'Bout 3 . . . this morning."

"That came before the vomiting?"

Ryan nodded.

"Was it sharp, or dull?"

Tonya opened the pack and swabbed Ryan's right hand. "Little stick," she advised.

Ryan's blue eyes turned on Tonya as she inserted the needle in his right hand, then taped it down.

"Wha's that . . . for?"

"You're dehydrated and one I.V. isn't restoring the fluids you lost as quickly as you need them back," Dr. Waltham explained.

Those blue eyes followed the tubing up to the plastic bag Tonya was hanging over the bed, then settled on the two bags hanging above Ryan's head.

"Ryan?"

Ryan's attention snapped back to Dr. Waltham. "Sorry. What?"

"Was the pain sharp, or dull?"

Ryan frowned. "Dull . . . in my stomach." He paused. "Sometimes . . . it was . . . sharp."

"Are you having trouble breathing?" Dr. Waltham asked.

"Talking . . . hurts."

Dr. Waltham nodded. "We're almost through. How would you rate the pain?"

Ryan frowned.

"1 being not so bad, 10 being really bad."

"Uh . . . 7?" Ryan winced. "12 when . . . I move."

"When did the vomiting start?"

"Don't know . . . Kirsten . . . jus' got home."

"Kirsten? You mean your mom?"

"Foster." Ryan sighed, then winced and absently grabbed his right side.

"Okay, that's enough interrogation," Dr. Waltham said. "Excuse me for a minute while I confer with my nurse." He motioned Tonya over to the doors. "What's the status on Jenkins, and radiology?"

"Jenkins was closing a GSW. She should be down as soon as she scrubs out. Radiology is available for a CT any time you are. I put a rush on the chest films, so they should be ready, too."

"Can you ask Steph, or somebody at the desk to check on Jenkins? I hate withholding pain meds from this kid. Especially for the CT." Dr. Waltham paused. "I'll hook up the monitor while you do that."

Tonya nodded, pushed one door open and hurried out of the room in search of Steph, or one of the clerical aides.

**8:25 p.m.**

Seth was anxiously pacing back and forth in front of his mom, passing his dad, who was pacing in the opposite direction. Synchronized pacing had real potential as an Olympic event.

His mom grabbed his dad's hand. "Why don't you and Seth take shifts?"

Dad sighed and plopped down on the chair to Mom's right.

"Why doesn't somebody come out and tell us something?" Seth asked anxiously.

Dad checked his watch, then leaned back and put an arm around his mom. "It hasn't been that long, relatively speaking, Seth. The doctor has to wait for the results of lab tests and diagnostic imaging."

"Yeah, but isn't the whole point of a hospital to get all those things done really, really fast?" Seth responded.

Mom leaned toward Dad. "I think he's got you there."

Dad just rolled his eyes.

"There's the doctor," Mom said, and stood up.

"Him?" Dad asked, standing up. "He doesn't look much older than Seth and Ryan. What is he, Doogie Howser?"

"Doogie who?" Seth asked as the doctor walked over to them.

"This is my husband, Sandy Cohen. And our son, Seth," Mom said, "How's Ryan?"

"He's got the classic presentation of appendicitis, but I'm on my way up to radiology to confirm, and hopefully get a better picture for the surgeon."

"So, he'll have to have surgery," Dad said quietly.

The doctor nodded. "As soon as we get some fluids in him and stabilize his heart rate and blood pressure."

"Isn't waiting a bad idea?" Seth asked. "I mean, don't people, like, die when their appendix ruptures?"

The doctor shook his head. "That's the result of infection, not the rupture of the appendix," he paused, "We can't risk surgery on top of the dehydration. It's better for Ryan if we stabilize him."

"Dr. Waltham, call 2112," a voice announced over the loud speaker.

Seth's stomach flipped and a chill started at the crown of his head and moved down to his shoulders.

"That's our code for Radiology," Waltham said. "They're ready for me upstairs. I'll be back to talk to you about the surgery and recovery once we get the CT films."

Seth stood in the same spot, watching as the doctor went to the elevators and pushed the up button. He couldn't move. He was too scared for Ryan.

In the months since Dad brought Ryan home, Seth had come to think of him as a real brother. Ryan already had one brother, so Seth didn't expect him to return the sentiment. It was too weird to talk about, so Seth didn't ask and pretty much kept that bit of information to himself. Well, there had been that one time after cotillion rehearsal when Seth had referred to them as "like brothers." Ryan hadn't laughed at the statement, or punched Seth out. Which was a good sign.

Being an only child had been lonely and being either ignored or taunted by his peers hadn't been any fun either. Seth had instantly taken to Ryan, never thinking of him as a juvenile delinquent. And Ryan hadn't treated Seth like a geek, or a loser. Seth finally had a real friend and his life had changed for the better on so many levels. Ones even Seth had never imagined. He was terrified of losing Ryan, because that would mean going back to the way things were before.

"Hey, let's go sit down," Mom's voice said softly.

Seth turned to his mom. "Mom, I'm scared. Really, really scared."

Mom kissed his cheek. "So am I, baby," she whispered.

Seth let his mom lead him back to the chairs along the wall and quietly sat next to her while his dad paced in front of them.

**8:45 p.m.**

Ryan opened his eyes and found himself in a long, dark and cold room and he had no idea how he'd gotten there. The gurney he was on was next to another bed, which was sitting on top of a long ramp that led into a huge hole. He guessed that he would have to be moved onto that bed, then into the hole. The prospect of being moved caused the beeping on the monitor to speed up.

"Ryan, it's okay. This is a CT Scan. It's like an x-ray and it doesn't hurt," Tonya advised. She turned the monitor off and took the pads off his chest.

"Hurts . . .when you . . . move me."

Dr. Waltham came in through a door on the other side of the room. "They're almost ready for you." He stopped next to the gurney.

"Don' . . . wanna move."

Dr. Waltham looked at Tonya. "Let's get 5 mg of morphine on board."

"Thank . . . you," Ryan whispered.

"It won't make the pain go away completely, but it will take the edge off," Dr. Waltham explained. "Dr. Jenkins still needs to examine you."

Ryan hadn't heard Tonya leave, but she must have, because she was coming back in through the door Dr. Waltham had just used. "Ryan, this might burn as it goes in." She stuck the needle into something on the I.V., instead of him.

Ryan hissed as the burn traveled up his hand and forearm. He was grateful when it stopped at his elbow. Nothing else happened and Ryan didn't think the drug was working.

"We'll give that a minute or two," Waltham said. "Have you ever had a CT Scan."

Ryan shook his head, blinking as one doctor and one nurse turned into two doctors and two nurses.

"We're going to move you onto the bed, and you'll have to put your arms over your head, so we can get a clear picture of your abdomen," Dr. Waltham continued. "It only takes a few minutes, but you have to be absolutely still. Do you think you can do that?"

"Uh-huh." It was getting harder and harder for Ryan to focus his eyes.

"I'll be in the booth with the radiologist. When he's got a good image, he's going to tell you to hold your breath. Do you think you can do that?"

"Uh-huh."

"CT's ready." The voice seemed to come from nowhere and everywhere.

"How're you doing, Ryan?" Tonya asked.

Ryan's eyes suddenly felt too heavy to hold open. "'Kay. . . I gues'." His tongue felt bigger, making him slur the words. He felt himself lifted and moved, but it didn't feel like a knife being twisted in his side this time.

"Are you still with us, Ryan?" Dr. Waltham's voice asked.

"Think . . . so."

"Ryan, I'm going to put your arms up," Tonya advised. "Just let me do all the work."

"Shure. . .."

First Ryan's left arm was lifted, then his right. There wasn't any pain this time.

"I can't go in with you, but I'll be right here," Tonya said.

Ryan felt the bed he was on slide back. He was vaguely aware of machinery noises, but he couldn't open his eyes to see how the machines worked.

"Deep breath." That was the same voice he'd heard earlier.

Ryan obeyed.

"And hold."

Then the bed slid forward and it was over.

"You did really well, Ryan." Tonya moved his arms back to his sides, then began putting the pads back.

"It was pretty easy." A weak laugh at his joke bubbled up and out of Ryan's mouth. He was stoned. He closed his eyes as he was lifted and moved again. A door opened and closed, followed by two sets of taps. He didn't open his eyes until the taps stopped next to the bed.

A woman with dark, curly hair was standing next to Dr. Waltham. He pointed to her. "This is Dr. Jenkins."

"Thank God," Ryan muttered.

Dr. Jenkins smiled. "Dr. Waltham seems to think you've got appendicitis." The woman had an accent like the ones Ryan had heard on the shows Kirsten watched on PBS. "Do you mind if I check his work?"

"Whatever." Ryan closed his eyes.

Dr. Jenkins started at his navel instead of his chest. Thanks to the morphine, Ryan guessed that this examination wouldn't be as bad Dr. Waltham's. He was proven wrong when Dr. Jenkin's hand settled on his right side. His eyes flew open and he let out a groan.

"Sorry." Dr. Jenkins smiled down at him.

Ryan watched warily as Dr. Jenkins went to the foot of the bed and placed her hand under his ankle to lift his leg.

"Ryan, I'm going to push your leg. I want you to push from your hip and keep me from bending your leg at the knee. All right?"

Ryan nodded and tensed his leg as the doctor started pushing on the bottom of his foot. Sharp pain lanced through his right side and he let out another groan.

"All right, you can relax." Dr. Jenkins set his foot back on the bed. "Just one more." She lifted his right leg again and turned it in toward his left leg. "No pain?"

Ryan shook his head.

"Well, it seems that Dr. Waltham's diagnosis was correct."

"What happens now?" Ryan knew, but maybe hearing the words would make it seem real. Although all of this being a bad dream he'd wake up from soon would suit him just fine.

"Unfortunately, there's only one treatment for appendicitis. The surgery is routine and should last no more than an hour or two." Dr. Jenkins paused briefly. "You'll be completely asleep."

"Will you let me stay asleep?" Ryan asked. He wasn't sure, since it seemed like Dr. Waltham and Tonya had been set on keeping him awake, whether he wanted to be or not.

Both of the doctors smiled and Tonya snickered at Ryan's question, which he'd meant as a serious critique of medical care.

"The anesthesiologist will make sure you stay asleep so you won't feel a thing. When you wake up, you'll feel much better." Dr. Jenkins sounded pretty sure about it.

Ryan was beginning to wonder if feeling better was possible.

**9:10 p.m.**

Kirsten watched her husband and son as they paced the waiting room. She hadn't expected her shift idea to last as long as it had. A glance at the clock told her that only five minutes had passed since her last check of the time. She was beginning to share Seth's frustration at the lack of information shared with them by Dr. Waltham.

Seth and Sandy stopped and stared behind her. Kirsten stood and turned to find Dr. Waltham and a woman entering the waiting area. Her heart bounded into her throat. Doctors who looked that serious only brought bad news.

"Did something happen to Ryan?" Sandy finally spoke.

"Ryan's fine." Dr. Waltham motioned to the woman with him. "This is Dr. Jenkins, Mr. and Mrs. Cohen. She'll be performing Ryan's surgery."

"Was it appendicitis?" Seth asked.

Dr. Jenkins nodded. "CT and my examination confirmed Dr. Waltham's initial diagnosis. Are you familiar with the procedure?"

"Not personally." Sandy ignored Kirsten's annoyed look.

"We'll perform a traditional appendectomy, rather than using laparoscopy. Both have the same risks, but recovery time is shorter with the laparoscopic approach."

"Then why not use that?" Sandy asked. Kirsten was grateful that Sandy had the presence of mind to ask questions.

"Based on Ryan's symptoms and their severity, there's a possibility that the appendix has already ruptured. I can better deal with that with a traditional appendectomy. It's a routine procedure, where a small incision is made on the lower right side of the abdomen, the appendix is removed and the organs are examined for signs of infection and treated with an antibacterial. Then the abdomen is closed." Dr. Jenkins could have been reciting her grocery list. Or her English accent made it seem that she was.

"How can you not know whether Ryan's appendix has ruptured?" Kirsten was finally able to speak up. The doctor's cool, detached manner was grating on her already frayed nerves. Ryan wasn't a thing. He was a very sick kid. He was _her_ very sick kid.

"Regrettably, there are no clear symptoms or indicators. Some patients experience a cessation of pain after rupture, while other patient's symptoms become acute." Dr. Jenkins checked her watch. "I've got another patient to examine. I'll leave Dr. Waltham to answer any other questions you might have."

"What about recovery time?" Sandy asked as Dr. Jenkins left them.

"That will depend on whether or not the appendix ruptured." Dr. Waltham motioned toward the chairs. "Let's sit down."

The Cohens followed Dr. Waltham, who sat across from them.

"If the appendix hasn't ruptured, Ryan will go to surgical recovery, then he'll be admitted to the floor for three to five days. If the appendix has ruptured, he'll go to the stepdown unit, where he'll be monitored for signs of infection. The length time will depend on his condition, but it could be as long as seven to ten days."

Kirsten swallowed. "Doctor, could the delay . . . did it affect . . .." The words stuck in her throat.

Dr. Waltham shook his head. "Appendicitis isn't easy to diagnose and a lot of the patients I see in the E.R. have been to their family doctors, or primary care physicians who missed the diagnosis."

"Can we see Ryan before he . . . before they operate?" Seth asked quietly.

Dr. Waltham nodded. "I don't think a few minutes could do any harm." He stood.

Kirsten put her arm around Seth as they followed Dr. Waltham out of the waiting area and down the wide hallway leading to the treatment rooms.

Dr. Waltham approached the door of one room and tapped a large button on the wall. "Ryan's had a pre-op sedative, so he'll probably be a little groggy," he explained as he held the door open for them. "I'll wait outside." He motioned to the nurse, who followed him out into the hall.

Kirsten took two steps past the doctor and froze at the sight of Ryan lying motionless on the gurney. He was so still and she couldn't see his chest moving. Even the steady beep of the heart monitor failed to reassure her.

Seth stopped and turned back to her. "Mom?"

Kirsten swallowed her fear and followed Seth and Sandy to the side of the bed. Relief washed over her when she saw that Ryan's eyes were open.

"Hey." Ryan gave them one of those half-smiles that always made Kirsten imagine the little boy he had been before the trials of his life had taken his innocence away.

Somehow, Kirsten managed to smile back. "How're you feeling?" It was a stupid question, but it was the first one to come to her. He was pale, but the lines of pain that had been on his face the last time she'd seen him were gone. She smoothed the hair away from his forehead, then gently grasped his left hand.

"'Kay. They gave me somethin'. I'm sleepy."

"Well, you sure look better," Sandy commented, gently patting Ryan's left shoulder.

"Yeah, Ryan, you're not all red and the veins in your neck aren't standing out. But, you know, if you wanted _all_ of Mom and Dad's attention, you could've just said something, 'cause God knows I've been _praying_ for somebody to make them leave _me_ alone," Seth chattered nervously.

Ryan laughed, then winced. "Oww. Seth, don't make me laugh. 'Kay?"

"I'll try to keep my rapier wit sheathed for the time being." Seth held his closed fist out and Ryan slowly lifted hand and made a fist to tap Seth's knuckles. Ryan then dropped his arm back to the bed.

The doors behind them opened and Dr. Waltham and the nurse returned with two burly orderlies.

"I guess it's time." Sandy squeezed Ryan's shoulder again. "You're gonna be just fine, Ryan."

"Yeah, that doctor sure sounds like she knows where all the parts are and where they're s'posed to go." Seth tapped the knuckles of his right hand against Ryan's without putting Ryan through the effort of lifting his arm or making a fist. "I'll see you later."

Kirsten leaned down and kissed Ryan's forehead. "I'll be there when you wake up. I promise."

Ryan smiled up at her. "Don' worry 'bout me," he ordered.

"That's part of the deal, remember?" Kirsten gently kissed his forehead again, then stepped back as the orderlies unlocked the gurney's wheels.

Sandy put his arm around Kirsten's waist as she watched the gurney wheeled out of the treatment room. When the doors swung closed, she broke down, turning to Sandy and burying her face in his shirt. Her body shook as Sandy's arms wrapped around her and the choked sobs erupted from deep in her chest.

Kirsten tried to stop the tears and the quaking, but her brain had no control over her body. She was a strong, empowered woman. She was a businesswoman and business women don't cry like toddlers when things go wrong. They fix things. They make them better. That's what Dawn Atwood had thought when she'd abandoned Ryan for the second time. Kirsten didn't know how to fix this.

"It's okay, Mom. Don't cry." Seth rubbed her shoulders. "Appendicitis was the not so bad."

Kirsten pulled away from Sandy long enough to pull Seth into their embrace. Holding her son and being held by her husband had been her only comfort when her mother died. They'd lost that closeness somewhere along the way.

Since Ryan had come into their lives, the Cohens had reunited, after years of drifting apart. Her relationship with Sandy was stronger. Her relationship with Seth had changed for the better. The bond that Seth and Ryan had formed that first day had changed Seth from a quiet, sullen loner into an outgoing, happy kid. If they lost Ryan, things would go back to the way they'd been before. She didn't think she could bear to see that happen.


	3. Chapter 3

See Chapter 1 for Disclaimers

"It's a Mom Thing"

by Lisa O'Brien

Copyright September, 2003

**CHAPTER THREE**

**Tuesday, September 30**

**11:45 p.m.**

Kirsten shifted on the couch in the surgical waiting room, trying not to wake Seth, who'd spent the last hour sleeping with his head on her shoulder. Sandy came into the waiting room with two paper cups of coffee. She gratefully took the cup, blew on it, then took a sip.

Sandy sat on the couch next to his wife. "Dr. Jenkins should be out any minute," he said quietly.

Kirsten looked up at the clock. "Has it been two hours?"

"Feels more like four or five, doesn't it?" Sandy took her coffee cup, set it on the table next to the couch next to his own cup, then took Kirsten's hand. "How're you doing?"

"Fine, now. I know that's not normal for me, Sandy." Kirsten sighed. "It's been a really long day."

Sandy kissed Kirsten's temple. "It's perfectly normal, Kirsten. Don't you remember when Seth was 3 months old and had colic? He cried all the time and so did you because you couldn't do anything for him."

Kirsten looked down at the floor.

"And when Seth was 7 and had chickenpox and he was itchy and miserable. When you finally got his fever down and got him to sleep, you laid on his bed with him and cried yourself to sleep."

"Ryan isn't 3 months old, and he isn't 7."

"But he was in a lot of pain and you couldn't take it away." Sandy shrugged. "Age doesn't really matter."

"I should've taken Ryan to the doctor this afternoon." Kirsten was struggling to keep her voice low and stay in control.

"Kirsten, you heard Dr. Waltham." Sandy leaned toward her and lifted her chin. "Dr. Michaels could've missed the diagnosis and sent Ryan home."

"Or he could've made it and sent us here six hours earlier and Ryan's appendix wouldn't have ruptured." Kirsten looked back down at the floor.

"We don't know that it did," Sandy said quietly.

"Then what's taking so long?"

Sandy kissed Kirsten's temple again. "I don't know."

"Whoa!" Seth sat up suddenly, blinking and looking around.

"I'm sorry, baby, did we wake you up?" Kirsten rubbed Seth's back, trying to coax him back to sleep.

"It was the trolls. They were all over the place." Seth shivered.

"No _Troll Quest_ for you, Seth." Sandy chuckled.

Seth shot a glare at his father, then looked at his watch. "I'm gonna find a snack machine and a Coke." He stretched his arms and rotated his neck, then stood.

Kirsten reached for her purse. "I think I've got some change."

Seth shook his head. "I've got it, Mom." He started for the door, then turned. "You want me to bring something back?"

Sandy lifted the coffee cups from the table. "We're good."

"Not too long, Seth," Kirsten called as Seth turned and put his hand on the door.

Seth acknowledged with a turn of his head and a roll of his eyes, then he opened the door and stepped out of the waiting room.

"How can he eat?" The thought of food turned Kirsten's stomach.

"He's 16."

"Oh, yeah." Kirsten sipped her coffee. "Have you gotten through to Dawn?"

"I tried while I was in the cafeteria. Still no answer." Sandy set his coffee back on the table and put an arm around Kirsten. "Do you think Ryan's ready to see her again?"

Kirsten shook her head. "She needs to know. And he needs to know that she cares about him."

"You've never told me why you changed your mind about Ryan."

Kirsten smiled wryly. "Maybe I never will." She would never tell Sandy that Ryan had cried when his mother left. She would keep that as sacred as she would any spoken confidence. She would never tell her husband that the look of pain on Ryan's face when Dawn walked away had broken her heart, because she hadn't changed her mind out of pity.

Sandy's dark eyebrows rose and met in the middle of his forehead.

"It was a lot of things. I was the one who insisted on finding his mother and that didn't end well. She really hurt him." Kirsten rested her head on Sandy's shoulder. "And he wasn't a stranger anymore."

"It took you long enough."

"Yeah, it did." Kirsten lifted her head slightly and kissed her husband's cheek. "When did we stop talking like this?"

"Too long ago."

"Let's try harder," Kirsten said quietly.

Sandy kissed the top of her head, then reached up and smoothed her hair.

**Wednesday, October 1**

**12:45 a.m.**

The door of the waiting room opened, but Sandy ignored it. He'd been disappointed too many times in the past hour when he'd looked up only to find another family member entering the room, or a doctor who wasn't Dr. Jenkins coming in to tell some other family about their loved one. Just a few minutes ago, another family had gotten bad news. That was obvious from their reactions.

"I swear if Dr. Jenkins doesn't walk through that door in five minutes, I'm going to find her." Kirsten's voice was determined.

"I'll back you up, Mom." Seth's was equally determined.

Kirsten smiled and put her arm around Seth. "That's my boy."

"Three hours isn't a long time for surgery." Sandy tried to be the voice of reason. "And the delay could've been caused by something that doesn't have anything to do with Ryan."

"Then Dr. Jenkins could've sent someone out here to tell us that." Kirsten stood.

Sandy grabbed his wife's hand and rose from the couch. "Let me check with the desk, first. If they know nothing, I'll turn you and Seth loose on the hospital and Dr. Jenkins." He gently sat Kirsten back on the couch, then turned and crossed the long room to the desk.

The lone volunteer manning the waiting area looked up from a magazine.

"Sandy Cohen, we're waiting for word on a patient . . . Ryan Atwood. His doctor is Dr. Jenkins."

"Let's see," the woman said, running her finger down a list of names on a clipboard. "Sorry, sir, no changes. He's still in surgery."

"It's been an hour longer than Dr. Jenkins expected. Could you call the OR and check?"

"Sir, if there was anything to report and Dr. Jenkins couldn't come in herself, she would've called to let me know."

Sandy picked up the phone, turned the keypad toward the woman and picked up the handset. "Would you please just check?"

The woman sighed as though Sandy's simple request was a major inconvenience for her, then took the handset and punched in four numbers with the eraser of a pencil. She tapped the pencil on the list and glared up at Sandy while she waited for her call to be answered. "Is Dr. Jenkins still in OR 1?" She frowned after a minute. "Yes, they're still here . . . okay, I will." She replaced the handset. "Sir, if you'll just have a seat, I'm sure Dr. Jenkins will be in to speak to you in a few minutes."

"What's going on? What did whoever you talked to say?"

"All I can tell you, sir, is that Dr. Jenkins has finished the surgery and will be down to speak to you soon."

"What happened?" Kirsten asked from beside Sandy. "Where's Ryan?"

"_She_ won't tell me." Sandy motioned toward the volunteer.

"I've told you all I can tell you, sir."

"It's been a long day for us." Kirsten took Sandy by the arm and led him back to the couch.

"Aww, Mom, I wanted to see Dad go off on that lady."

"And live with his guilty conscience afterwards? I don't think so, Seth." Kirsten sat her husband down. "She's a volunteer. Save the passive-aggressive behavior for someone who deserves it. Like Dr. Jenkins."

"Ah, Mom." Seth pointed behind his mother.

Kirsten whirled around. "You weren't supposed to hear that." A hole in the floor swallowing her would have been a welcome event at that moment.

"That's quite all right, Mrs. Cohen." Dr. Jenkins' dark, curly hair was pulled back into a bun, but dark tendrils had escaped, flying in all directions around her face. She pulled a chair over in front of the couch. "Perhaps we should sit down."

Sandy touched Kirsten's arm before she could decline.

Dr. Jenkins seated herself in the chair and leaned toward them. "Ryan came through the surgery without any problems, but had a minor complication with the anesthesia. He's stabilized now and on his way down to ICU."

"His appendix ruptured." Kirsten's voice was flat. She leaned toward Sandy and put her hand in his.

Dr. Jenkins leaned forward and briefly touched Kirsten's knee. "There was a rupture, but that's not uncommon. As for the timing of it, a rupture could very well have occurred as I was making the incision. I can only say that it had happened by the time I located the appendix, but not when it happened." She paused. "While a rupture means a greater risk of infection, I found no signs of infection in my examination. We'll keep Ryan, administer I.V. antibiotics and monitor him."

"Why isn't Ryan going to the stepdown unit?" Sandy asked, giving Kirsten's hand a reassuring squeeze. "That was what Dr. Waltham told us would happen."

"Ryan had a minor complication with the anesthesia. That may have been the result of his condition at the time of surgery and the fact that his system was already compromised." Dr. Jenkins paused, visibly measuring her words. "I wasn't able to control the bleeding as well as I could have in a scheduled surgery. I was prepared for that because I knew Ryan had taken aspirin -"

"What about Reye's syndrome?" Kirsten asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

"That's extremely rare in children over the age of 12, Mrs. Cohen. Given the history, it's also unlikely because the dosage was low and it's been less than 24 hours. Reye's takes 24 to 48 hours to manifest. Reye's is also a neurological condition and, prior to surgery, there were no neurological deficits consistent with Reyes. However, aspirin can affect clotting, which is what presented during surgery. That might also have affected Ryan's toleration of the general. It might have been a . . . natural isn't the right word exactly, but some patients don't tolerate anesthetics well, even when they're in perfect health," Dr. Jenkins explained. "Have any of you ever had surgery under general anesthesia?"

Seth raised his hand. "Tonsils. But I was, like, 9."

"I've been lucky." Sandy gave Kirsten's hand another squeeze.

"I had Seth with an epidural."

"Well, Seth, you probably wouldn't remember this, but just after your surgery was finished, the anesthesiologist woke you up. In Ryan's case, the anesthesiologist wasn't able to wake him." Dr. Jenkins must have read the looks on their faces. "Ryan's vital signs are stable and he's breathing on his own. He's simply unconscious."

Kirsten shook her head. "I'm sorry, Dr. Jenkins, that may not bother you, but it bothers me."

"It does bother me, Mrs. Cohen. A great deal," Dr. Jenkins replied quietly. "Unfortunately, medicine is as much an art as it is a science. And the human body doesn't always do what we surgeons want it to do." She smiled slightly and leaned forward, reaching out and gently squeezing Kirsten's arm. "I'm sorry. I know this has been as much of an ordeal for you and your family as it's been for Ryan. But I have every confidence that Ryan will wake up in a few hours."

"Is he, you know, gonna be in a lot of pain?"

"There'll be some pain, but he'll also have pain killers to manage it."

"How long will Ryan be in ICU?" Kirsten asked quietly.

"For at least a few hours once he wakes. From there Ryan will go to the stepdown unit, and then the surgical floor, for at least a few days."

"When can we see him?" Sandy spoke up, asking the question that was most important to the Cohen family.

"ICU has restricted visitation. Because Ryan's a minor, an adult is permitted to stay with him. However, Seth will be limited to ten minutes an hour between 8 and 12:00 and 1:00 and 5:00. The parent who isn't staying with Ryan will have the same restriction. Since visiting hours have ended, I'm afraid only one of you can see him tonight." Dr. Jenkins stood. "I should go up to ICU and check to make sure they've got Ryan settled in. Shall I call you here?"

Kirsten stood. "I'll go with you."

"Honey, why don't you take my car, take Seth home and get some sleep? You can relieve me in the morning."

"Sandy, I promised Ryan I'd be there when he woke up. I'm not going to break that promise." Kirsten kissed her husband, then hugged her son, who seemed to grow taller every day. "Go with your dad." She brushed the boy's dark, curly hair with her fingers. "Get some rest. That's an order."

Seth half-heartedly saluted. "Yes, ma'am."

Kirsten kissed his cheek. "And make sure your dad gets some rest, too."

Sandy watched Kirsten as she followed Dr. Jenkins from the waiting room. "Your mother has spoken. Let's go."

Slowly, Seth rose. "The visitors policy here sucks."

"You're tellin' me." Sandy put an arm around Seth's shoulders. To his surprise, Seth returned the gesture.

**1:15 a.m.**

Kirsten was cooling her heels in the third waiting room of the night. She'd been warming up to Dr. Jenkins until the woman had left her once again to disappear behind the closed doors of the ICU. For the life of her, she couldn't understand why hospitals felt the need to banish visitors to the hallway, or waiting areas when a patient was being treated, or moved into or out of a room.

Kirsten was about to storm the fortress when Dr. Jenkins returned to the dimly lighted waiting room.

"They're ready for you, Mrs. Cohen." Dr. Jenkins held one of the wide doors open and waited as Kirsten stepped through.

"Was something wrong with Ryan?"

"Oh, no, nothing like that. He'd only arrived a minute or two before we did." Dr. Jenkins paused. "Ryan's on telemetry and the nurses at the desk will be monitoring him at all times. If there are any changes, someone will come in, so you needn't worry about that. Of course, if you need anything, or if you think someone needs to come in, do call them."

"Thank you."

"Ryan has a nasogastric tube, that's to decompress his stomach and to provide nutrients until his system can tolerate a clear diet. He's receiving I.V. antibiotics and fluids. Once he wakes, we'll also administer pain medication. He's also hooked up to a cardiac monitor. And he's receiving oxygen." Dr. Jenkins stopped at an open door. "The machines and tubes and wires may seem daunting, but they're all therapeutic. Right in here."

Kirsten stepped into the room, which was lit by the glow emitted from a small computer screen above the right side of the bed.

"Jenny, this is Mrs. Cohen, she'll be staying with Ryan."

Jenny finished smoothing the blankets on the bed and stepped over to Kirsten. "We'll take good care of him, Mrs. Cohen." She smiled reassuringly.

"I had a chair brought in for you, since we don't generally encourage visitors. It flattens into a bed. They're quite comfortable, as I've slept in them many times myself. Housekeeping will be up in a few minutes with pillows and blankets."

The thoughtful gesture surprised Kirsten. "I'm sorry, Dr. Jenkins. You seemed . . . different the first time we spoke."

"I was. I'm very English with a patient's family before a procedure." She smiled wryly. "You Americans would call it my game face, I believe."

In spite of herself, Kirsten smiled. "Something like that."

"That's not how I am with the patients I treat, by the way."

Kirsten shook her head. "Oh, no, I didn't . . .." She shrugged. "It crossed my mind sometime during the night." She risked a glance at the still figure on the bed. "Ryan's special. To my family."

"As he should be." Dr. Jenkins turned to Jenny. The surgeon, who was Kirsten's height, towered over the tiny, blond nurse. "Would you mind if I give the orientation?"

Jenny smiled. She seemed to be one of those petite, perky women Kirsten had always secretly envied, especially when buying shoes. "Not at all." She had to reach up to pat Kirsten's shoulder. "I'll be at the desk if you need me."

"Thank you."

Once Jenny was gone, Dr. Jenkins went to the right side of the bed and waited for Kirsten to follow.

Kirsten swallowed in an effort to calm the butterflies in her stomach, then approached the left side of the bed. The array of wires, tubes and machines did nothing to reassure her. Ryan was so still, that he didn't appear to be breathing, which was no comfort either.

"Whenever you're ready."

Kirsten took Ryan's right hand in her own. His skin was pale and cool. She hoped it was the dim lighting that made Ryan's usually golden coloring seem as pale as her own skin. "Ryan, it's Kirsten. I'm right here, just like I promised." When she got no response, she finally looked over at Dr. Jenkins. "I hoped . . .."

"Personally, I believe Ryan can hear you. There's certainly no harm in trying." Dr. Jenkins paused. "If you'd rather let one of the nurses go through this later, I'll understand."

"No, thank you." Kirsten glanced up at the monitor. "I'd like to know what all that stuff means."

"The top number on the monitor is Ryan's heart rate. There's no one right number, but this is in the range we'd expect. The second numbers are blood pressure. The bottom number is respiration. Right before Ryan wakes, you might see a slight rise in that number, as well as the heart rate." Dr. Jenkins pointed to three sets of lines on a frame at the left of the monitor, which rose and fell as they moved across the screen, renewing themselves. "These show that Ryan's heart is functioning normally."

Kirsten nodded.

"There's a clip on Ryan's finger that measures the level of oxygen in his blood. If by chance it comes off, the monitor will beep. If there were a test button, I'd demonstrate, but there isn't. It's nothing to be concerned about." Dr. Jenkins paused.

Kirsten couldn't bring herself to ask about the alarms she should be concerned about. "Thank you, again, Dr. Jenkins."

"It will probably be a few hours until Ryan wakes. Perhaps you should try to get some rest once Housekeeping brings you bedding."

"I'll try." Kirsten doubted that sleep would be possible.

"I'll be in first thing in the morning to check on Ryan," Dr. Jenkins promised.

Kirsten watched Dr. Jenkins leave, then leaned down and gently kissed Ryan's forehead. "I'm going to get the chair. I'll be right back."

Kirsten went around the bed to the chair, which was next to a narrow, tall window. The chair was too heavy to lift, forcing her to pull it the short distance to the right side of the bed. She winced as either the legs, or the tile floor protested. Once the chair was in place, she sat and reached through the raised rail on the bed. "Sorry about the noise." She reached over the rail and brushed the hair from Ryan's forehead with her left hand. "They wouldn't let Sandy and Seth come in to see you, but I'm sure they'll be here first thing in the morning."

Kirsten watched Ryan's face for any sign that he'd heard her. None appeared. "I know you're in there, Ryan." She paused, waiting for a sign that never came.

It had already been a long night. It would be a long morning.

**2:10 a.m.**

Sandy shuffled into the kitchen, where he found Seth standing in front of the open refrigerator door. At least he hoped it was Seth. He didn't have the energy to deal with a burglar with the munchies. "You should be in bed."

"Can't sleep." Seth opened a succession of take out packages, rejecting the contents and placing them back in the refrigerator.

"If you're hungry, I can fix us both something."

"Not hungry." Seth closed the door of the fridge and turned to lean on the counter. He rubbed his face with his hands, then leaned his chin on his left hand. "Ryan's gonna be okay, right?"

"Yeah, he'll be fine." Sandy stepped over next to his son, leaned on the counter and rested his chin on his hand.

"Can't sleep, either?"

"Nope." Sandy straightened. "How about a video game?"

Seth snorted. "Nah. No challenge."

"Aww, c'mon, Seth. I've been practicing."

"Dad, the only thing you practice is stabbing Ryan."

"Well, teach me."

Seth was about to answer when the phone rang. Father and son stared at each other through two rings, both expecting the worst. Sandy finally reached out and picked up the handset. "Hello?"

"Mr. Cohen, it's Marissa. I'm sorry to call so late, but I've been trying all night and no one was answering." There was a pause. "Is everything okay over there?"

Marissa was now living with her father, so she wouldn't know an ambulance had taken Ryan to the hospital, or that the Cohens had spent most of the night there.

"It's okay, Marissa. We were awake. Hang on a second, I'm gonna put Seth on."

Seth took the phone. "Hey, Marissa."

"What's going on, Seth? I've been calling all night."

"There's no easy way or good way to tell you this, so I'm just gonna -"

"Cut to the chase already, Seth."

"Ryan had appendicitis. He's in the hospital."

"Oh, my God! Is he okay?"

"Uhmmm . . .." Seth held the phone out to Sandy.

"Seth? Seth!"

Sandy took the phone from Seth, who silently left the kitchen. "Marissa, it's Mr. Cohen again."

"What happened to Ryan? Why won't Seth tell me?"

Sandy heard the pain and fear in the girl's voice. "Ryan's okay, Marissa. He came through the surgery, but he had a minor complication with the anesthesia."

"Is he at HOAG? What room?"

"Marissa, Ryan's in ICU right now, and then he's going to the stepdown unit. I don't know what the visitors' policies are. Why don't you give me a chance to check on them and I'll have Seth call you tomorrow morning? We're going back at 8:00."

"'Kay." Marissa audibly sniffled.

"If the hospital will let you visit, I'll pick you up after school."

"I'm not going to school tomorrow." The sniffles turned to sobs.

Marissa had been having a hard time adjusting to the Coopers' divorce and Sandy knew that her attendance and studies had already become another casualty. "Marissa, I know it'll be hard, but Seth and Ryan need somebody to keep up with their classes. Will you do that for them?"

Marissa sniffled, then cleared her throat. "Okay."

"Thank you. I promise I'll pick you up at your Dad's at 3:30 on the dot. Now, why don't you try to get some sleep? It's gonna be okay."

"'Kay. Thanks, Mr. Cohen."

"You're welcome. And everything's gonna be okay, Marissa."

"Yeah, okay."

The line clicked and Sandy turned the phone off. "You take it easy, Marissa." He set the handset down, then went to find Seth.

Sandy climbed the stairs and went to Seth's room, knocking briefly on the door before entering the inner sanctum. "Are you okay, son?"

Seth was lying on top of the bed, with his back to the door. "Fine." He cleared his throat. "I'm not . . . really in the . . . mood for . . . father son bonding."

"Good, 'cause neither am I." Sandy went over to the bed, sat, then stretched out on his back next to Seth. "I miss your bunkbeds."

"We got rid of those . . ." Seth sniffled. "When I was like . . . 12."

"Don't you remember when your mom first started working for Caleb and she used to go out of town a lot?"

"Not really."

"Well, whenever your mom went out of town for the night, you'd tell me I could sleep in your room so I wouldn't miss her." Sandy sighed wistfully. "You'd sleep in the top bunk and I'd sleep in the bottom bunk."

"Cute story," Seth said wryly. He sniffed again. "Thanks for sharing."

"Seth, I know you're worried about Ryan . . .."

Seth sat up, rose from the bed and went to his desk, keeping his back to Sandy. "I'm tired. I wanna go to sleep. Okay, Dad?"

Sandy sat up. "C'mere, Seth." He patted the bed.

Seth crossed his arms, then slowly turned and went to sit next to Sandy on the bed.

Sandy put an arm around Seth's shoulders. "I guess telling Marissa was a little too much."

Seth picked at an invisible spot on his sweat pants. "Hearing the doctor say it . . . and seeing Ryan . . . Mom crying." He paused. "But it wasn't telling Marissa. It was me."

Sandy waited silently. Seth would get around to what was bothering him in his own time.

"Yes, I'm worried about Ryan. Seeing him suffer, like, totally sucked." Seth sighed. "If Ryan . . . if something happens to him . . . things'll go back to the way they were." He continued picking at the sweat pants. "It's selfish . . ."

Sandy gently squeezed Seth's shoulders. "It's human, Seth. I've thought about it. I'm sure your mom has too. That doesn't mean we don't care about Ryan, or what happens to him."

"You've thought about . . .?"

"I'm Jewish. Guilt and worry are two of my strong suits." Sandy tousled his son's dark hair. "It just means that Ryan's had as much impact on our lives as we've had on his."

"Yeah, he's working up to complete sentences."

Sandy chuckled. "And when it really counted, you did a great job tonight, Seth. I'm really proud of you."

Seth turned to Sandy and raised his eyebrows, which weren't quite as ample as his father's. "Like . . .?"

"You cheered Ryan up when we finally got to see him. And you were there for your mom and me." Sandy smiled. "And you weren't worried about yourself when we were talking to the doctor."

Seth nodded. "Yeah, I guess."

"They're not your bunk beds, but what do you say you and I camp out on the couches in the den tonight . . . this morning? So I don't miss your mom."

"Sure, I could do that."

"Good boy." Sandy kissed Seth on top of the head.

"Dad! You know that, like, wigs me out."

"Seth, no matter how old you are, you're always gonna be my kid." Sandy stood. "We'd better both get some sleep."

Seth grabbed his pillow from the bed, then stood and followed his dad into the hall, where they pulled sheets and blankets from the linen closet.

**4:30 a.m.**

Kirsten watched Jenny as she changed bags on Ryan's I.V. She'd run out of things to say to Ryan half an hour before, making it obvious that Seth had inherited his gift of gab from his father. She'd been sitting quietly, holding Ryan's hand when the nurse came in before the alarm on the I.V. pump had a chance to sound.

Jenny finished hanging the new bags, discarded the old ones in a red bin hanging in a corner of the room, then noting the change on Ryan's chart. Then she moved on to the monitor, noting the readings on the chart. When she'd finished, she looked over at Kirsten. "How're you holding up?"

"Impatiently." Kirsten looked down at Ryan. "Any changes?"

"He's holding steady." Jenny smiled. "If you wanna take a break and go downstairs, the cafeteria's open 24/7."

Kirsten shook her head. "I promised Ryan I'd be here when he woke up. Once he wakes up, we'll see."

Jenny looked down at Ryan. "Is he your son from your first marriage?"

"Sandy's my first husband." Kirsten frowned.

"Oh, sorry." Jenny sounded like she could be blushing, but Kirsten couldn't see it in the dim light. "It's just that his last name is Atwood . . .."

Kirsten chuckled. "And mine's Cohen." She looked over at Ryan. "We're Ryan's foster family." She didn't feel up to explaining the situation and the reason wasn't really relevant, at least to Kirsten, Sandy and Seth. "He's been living with us since the earlier this summer."

"He's very lucky. Nobody would think you weren't his mother."

"Thanks." Kirsten smiled.

Jenny turned and smiled down at Ryan. "I'll bet he's a heartbreaker."

"He's the breakee." Kirsten didn't feel up to explaining that situation, either.

"Excuse me, Jen, can you help me set up for an MVA, multiple skull fractures?" The woman was rushing down the hall by the time Kirsten turned toward her voice.

"If you need me, just call the desk." Jenny followed the other nurse out of the room.

Kirsten turned back to Ryan. "I guess it's just you and me." She leaned against the rail of the bed. "Ryan, you need to wake up now." She watched his face for a twitch, or a change. "Ryan, if you wake up right now, I'll buy you a car."

Kirsten looked up at the clock, watching the second hand sweep around as Ryan remained unconscious.

Kirsten turned back to Ryan. "I should've known bribery wouldn't work on you." She laughed quietly. "It would work on Seth. It _has_ worked on Seth. But not on the kid that got a job instead of depending on us for spending money."

Still holding Ryan's right hand, Kirsten stretched, then sat back in the chair. When that proved to be no more comfortable, she stood. "What else works with Seth?" Without realizing it, she lifted the thumb of her left hand to her mouth and chewed the nail.

Inspiration took several minutes, but finally it came. Kirsten sat down in the chair, leaning forward toward the bed. "Ryan, when Sandy and Seth come to visit, I'll probably have to leave and go to the waiting room. I won't be here if you wake up then." She paused. "You have to be awake by the time Seth and Sandy visit. And what about Marissa . . .?" That probably wasn't the way to go. "Oh, never mind Marissa."

Ryan's breathing and heart rate remained steady. Plan A was a bust.

Kirsten went for Plan B. Teenagers embarrass too easily for their own good. If she couldn't bribe Ryan or persuade him, she'd have to embarrass him. "It's gonna be really hard for me to stay here and not talk to Jenny and the other nurses about you, you know." Kirsten smiled. "And when I start talking about you to the Newpsie ladies, or someone at the club, your ears turn red."

Plan B didn't seem to be working either, but Kirsten didn't have a Plan C. "I'll probably do more than just talk about you, Ryan. I might brag. And don't think I don't have anything to brag about." Kirsten paused. "There are your AP courses. And that paper you wrote when school first started. Oh, and the freshman girls calling the house day and night. And Caitlyn and the little girls at the club, who pretend to be in trouble in the deep end so you'll rescue them." She laughed quietly. "Seth said you know it's a scam, but you play along because it's cute. I'll probably even end up telling Jenny how you watch British comedies on PBS with me every Sunday night. Seth and Sandy don't even know about that."

Kirsten decided to bring out the big guns when the little ones didn't work. "I've got two words for you, Ryan. Cotillion pictures. Personally, I've got two favorites, one was taken just as you stepped up to the stage and the second one shows you when you were bowing, but your head was up and you were looking right at the camera. You looked so handsome in your tails and white gloves." She smiled. "If Jenny thinks you're a heartbreaker now, imagine what she'd think when she sees those pictures."

Kirsten thought she felt Ryan's hand twitch in hers. "And I've got funny stories, too. Let's see, there's the one about you eavesdropping and falling off the arm of the couch while Sandy and I were meeting with your caseworker for the first time. Or when you and Seth had that water balloon war and you ran smack into the pillar in back." She grinned. "If only I had those on video . . .."

This time, Kirsten was sure that Ryan's hand had moved. When she looked up at the monitor, the numbers for Ryan's heart rate and respiration were slightly higher, just as Dr. Jenkins said they might be. "That's right, Ryan. You'd better wake up now, or I'm going to blow your cool, bad boy image. Cool guys don't like the pirate game, do they?" She watched Ryan's face, smiling as his eyes twitched.

"That's it, Ryan. It's time to wake up." Kirsten stood and leaned across the bed, letting go of Ryan's hand to balance on the rail as she reached for the call button on the opposite rail.

Ryan's eyes opened and he blinked several times, then stared up at the ceiling.

Kirsten smiled. "Hey, sleepyhead." She pressed the call button twice more.

Ryan frowned and lifted his right hand, groaning and dropping it back to the bed. His left hand went toward the NG tube.

"No, sweetie." Kirsten gently guided Ryan's hand back down to the bed. "That has to stay."

Ryan's lips moved, but he had no voice. He cleared his throat, then winced.

Jenny returned to the room at a trot. "The speaker wasn't working." When she saw that Ryan's eyes were open, she smiled. "Good morning, Ryan. I'm Jenny."

Ryan tried to speak, without success. He winced.

"Does your throat hurt?" Jenny asked.

The relief on Ryan's face was visible as he nodded.

"You had to have a tube in your throat during surgery, so your throat's going to be sore for a little while."

"Will you be able to give him something now, or do we have to wait for Dr. Jenkins?" Kirsten hoped this wasn't yet another complication.

"I can take care of it." Jenny smiled down at Ryan. "How about some throat spray and ice chips?"

Ryan answered the only way he could at the moment. He nodded.

Jenny walked around the bed to a cabinet behind the monitors, returning to the bed with a spray bottle. "I'll teach you how to drive the bed later." She raised the head slightly, then gently steadied Ryan's head with a hand beneath his chin. "Open just a little." After two quick sprays, she set the bottle back in the cabinet.

Ryan swallowed, then leaned back into the pillows and closed his eyes.

"Do I need to call you if Ryan needs the spray again?"

"It's just your standard throat spray - use as needed."

Kirsten brushed Ryan's hair from his forehead. "Is that better?"

"Yeah . . .." Ryan winced. "A little." His voice was hoarse, but didn't sound permanently damaged, which was a relief to Kirsten. "What about . . . this?" He motioned toward the NG tube.

"That's standard with abdominal surgery," Jenny advised. "It's uncomfortable, but it shouldn't hurt. Is there any pain?"

Ryan shook his head. "It's . . . just . . .." He made a face that clearly expressed his disapproval.

"We'll talk to Dr. Jenkins when she comes in on rounds, okay? Are you having any other pain?" Jenny asked.

"Right . . . side," Ryan whispered. "A little." He swallowed again. "Not . . . bad."

Jenny gently patted Ryan's shoulder. "We won't let it get bad." She walked around the bed and quickly left the room.

Ryan looked over at Kirsten. "Hey." He gave her one of those half-smiles.

Kirsten smiled in return, then sat down in the chair. She leaned forward and put her hand over Ryan's right hand. "Hey," she said quietly.

"You . . . kept . . . your promise." Ryan winced, but that little boy smile never wavered.

Jenny returned to the room, carrying a small white cup, a spoon and a syringe.

Kirsten patted Ryan's hand, then stood.

"All right, Ryan, we'll have you fixed up in no time." Jenny handed the cup and spoon to Kirsten. "Ryan can only have one to three chips at a time, spaced about five to ten minutes apart. If they don't help, let me know and I'll page Dr. Jenkins." She looked at Ryan. "Don't crunch them. Dissolve them in your mouth, then swallow. Okay?"

"Yeah."

Jenny walked around to the I.V. stand and swabbed the port. "You might feel something a little warm."

Ryan hissed as Jenny injected the painkiller into the port. He turned his head toward Kirsten and reached for the cup with his right hand, groaning and dropping his hand to the bed.

"How about this, I'll hold the cup for you?" Kirsten suggested.

Ryan nodded, lifting his arm and taking the spoon.

Jenny smoothed the blankets on the bed. "Do you need a hand with that?"

Kirsten shook her head. "I think we've got it. Thanks."

"All right, Ryan, I'll see you later."

"Thanks," Ryan whispered.

Jenny smiled, patted Ryan's shoulder and padded out of the room.

Ryan's left hand was shaky and the I.V. tubing kept getting in the way. With the two obstacles working against him, he wasn't able get the ice onto the bowl of the spoon or keep it there. Frustration would be too mild a term for the expression on his face after his third failed attempt.

"Mind if I give it a try?"

Ryan shook his head, handed Kirsten the spoon and dropped his arm back to the bed.

Kirsten scooped up two chips of ice and held the spoon out to Ryan.

"That'll be our little secret," Kirsten promised.

Ryan leaned back again and closed his eyes. His face visibly relaxed when the cool liquid went down his sore throat.

Kirsten set the cup on the tray at the end of the bed, then sat, hoping she could stay that way until Sandy and Seth arrived.

Ryan's eyes opened and he looked around the room. "This a . . . regular . . . room?"

Kirsten wasn't sure how to answer. "You're in ICU right now, but only for a few hours."

Ryan frowned. "What happened?"

"That's about a five hour story. The bottom line is that you're okay."

"'Kay." Ryan closed his eyes again.

Now that Ryan was awake and talking, it felt as though a weight had lifted from Kirsten's shoulders. As she looked over at the clock, a huge yawn crept up on her and pounced. She quickly covered her mouth. When the yawn passed, she stretched. When she looked back down at Ryan, his eyes were open again and he was looking at her.

Ryan squinted in the general direction of the clock. "What time izzit?"

"A little after five." Kirsten stroked Ryan's forehead with her thumb, then brushed the blond hair back.

"You've been . . . here . . . all night?"

"I promised to be here when you woke up." Kirsten shrugged. "They wouldn't let Sandy and Seth see you, or they'd probably be here, too."

Ryan closed his eyes and turned his head away. "You didn't . . . have to . . . stay."

"And have you wake up in the hospital all alone? The answer to that would be no."

Ryan shrugged slightly. "No . . . big deal."

Kirsten wondered if Ryan had been left alone after his tonsillectomy and how young he was at the time. She couldn't change it, so she left it alone. She stood and squeezed Ryan's hand. "Ryan." When he didn't respond, she gently turned his head. "Look at me, please."

Ryan blinked, then wiped his eyes.

"Somewhere down the road, there might be promises to you, or to Seth, that Sandy and I make that we can't keep." Kirsten swallowed, willing herself not to cry again. "When I promised I'd be here when you woke up, that was one of those _very_ important promises that I wasn't gonna break, come Hell or high water."

"Thanks." A half-smile lit Ryan's pale face.

Kirsten leaned down and kissed Ryan's forehead. "Get some rest because Seth'll only have ten minutes at 8:00 and he's gonna have a lot to say."

"You woke . . . me up." Ryan's tone was petulant, but the smile made it clear that his sense of humor was still intact.

Kirsten smiled. "And I'm beginning to wonder why." She winked.

Ryan leaned back into the pillow, letting his eyes drift closed. Just when Kirsten thought he'd gone back to sleep, he opened one eye. "No cotillion . . . pictures. No . . . stories."

Kirsten laughed. "But, Ryan -" She hoped that he'd heard the things she'd said during the first hours as clearly as he'd heard her threats about pictures and cute stories.

"Promise."

Kirsten nodded. "Promise." She was slightly disappointed that she wouldn't be able to show off the cotillion pictures, or repeat the stories to the nurses, but this was another promise to Ryan she would keep. No matter what.


	4. Chapter 4

See Chapter 1 for Disclaimers

"It's a Mom Thing"

by Lisa O'Brien

Copyright September, 2003

THANK YOU: To Anna M. for her beta reading, encouragement and insightful and constructive skills as an editor. To Ciera for her beta reading, encouragement and quick response. To Anna C. for her beta reading, catching my medical faux pas, encouragement and insightful suggestions. To Debbie for her insightful commentary and encouragement. And to all those who have eMailed me and reviewed the story. I'm fitting each of you into your cameos as promised. Hope you all enjoy them.

**CHAPTER FOUR**

**Wednesday, October 1**

**7:25 a.m.**

Seth was frantically searching his room for the last installment in the _Legion_ series. He'd picked it up after school on Tuesday and hadn't read it yet, but he knew Ryan would like it and wanted to let him do the honors. He finally decided to dump his backpack, hoping he'd just missed it when he looked the first time. If it wasn't there, his dad would have to stop at the collectibles shop the minute it opened. His driving privileges were still severely restricted because of the TJ trip.

Dad walked into the room. "Seth, it's almost 7:30. We've got to get a move on if we're going to get to HOAG before eight."

"I've just gotta find one thing for Ryan, Dad." Seth put his hands on his hips and turned around, searching every corner, nook and cranny in the room.

"What're you looking for?"

"The new _Legion_. It's the last one and I just got it."

Dad looked down at the nightstand next to Seth's bed. He picked something up. "It's right here, let's go."

Seth rolled his eyes. "That's the next to last one, Dad. Ryan's already read it."

"You know, you guys should be reading books, not comic books," Sandy commented. "The last John Sanford was pretty good. Although your mom might think it's a little . . . graphic for you boys."

"Dad, we read books in school. And they're graphic novels, not comic books."

"Pfffttt." Dad rolled his eyes and shook his head. "I could read this in about ten minutes."

"Yes, Dad, but you wouldn't appreciate it." Seth spotted the new _Legion_ under the keyboard of his computer. He had no idea how it got _there_, but at least he'd found it. He picked up the backpack he'd used the year before from the chair, carefully placed _Legion_ inside and zipped the bag.

Dad frowned at the bag. "What are you taking him, the entire contents of your room?"

"You're funny, Dad . . . not. I'm just taking a few Gameboys, including _ProSkater II _and _III_, some _graphic novels_ that he hasn't read yet, or really liked. And he put _Great Expectations_ down on his reading list for English, so I'm taking that to him for those naps that'll aid in his recuperation." Seth slung the pack over his shoulder. "Which is kinda ironic since _Great Expectations_ is sort of like Ryan's life. Except that I'm not a girl, our house isn't full of rotted flowers, cobwebs and decayed wedding cake, you _didn't_ leave Mom at the altar and she's not an insane lady sittin' around in her extremely distressed wedding dress." He waved his arms. "Well, are we gonna stand here all day?"

Dad shook his head. "With that talent, you really oughta consider the law, Seth."

Father and son left Seth's room. As they reached the bottom of the stairs, the phone rang. Since Mom had called to let them know Ryan was awake and in stable condition, the only reason to hesitate was that they were on their way out the door.

"Marissa might've decided to skip school." Seth wouldn't be surprised, since Marissa was finding lots of reasons to skip school lately.

"I'll get it." Dad pointed his left index finger at Seth. "No more Gameboys, no more _graphic novels_, no more stuff from this house while I'm on the phone."

Seth made a face, then began mentally ticking off the contents of the pack to be sure he didn't need to sneak anything else into it while Dad was distracted.

"Hello, Dawn."

Seth stopped worrying about what he wanted to bring Ryan and quietly walked toward the kitchen, where Dad had answered the phone.

"Yes, I've been trying to reach you. How'd you know?" Dad paused. "Oh, yeah, Caller ID's a great thing . . . Dawn, Ryan had appendicitis . . . Dawn? Dawn . . . please, calm down."

Seth motioned furiously for his dad to hurry up, which would've admittedly been more effective if his dad could see him. Dad didn't have time to talk to Ryan's mom. Besides, she'd abandoned Ryan. Twice. Why would his dad even bother?

"He's okay, Dawn . . . HOAG . . . do you know where that is?" Dad paused again. "Do you have someone who can drive you out here? If not, I can come pick you up."

Seth softly banged his head against the nearest wall. He'd rather walk to the hospital.

"Yes, Dawn, he's really okay." Another pause. "All right, I'll meet you in the lobby at 9:30 . . . we'll talk then."

Seth heard the beep as Dad turned the phone off. He fixed Dad with his fiercest glare as he entered the hall.

Dad stopped. "What?"

"Tell me you didn't seriously just tell that woman where Ryan was."

"Dawn is still Ryan's mother, Seth. She at least has a right to know."

"She's the one who should be on probation," Seth muttered, turning and walking to the front door.

Neither spoke as they went out to the car, or on the drive to the hospital.

**7:40 a.m.**

Sandy found that parking at HOAG wasn't an easy process during the day. The lot appeared to be filled to capacity and Sandy lost two spots that were snatched by drivers who apparently didn't understand what a turn signal was, or what a blinking one meant. Seth was out of the car and walking briskly toward the main hospital entrance the instant Sandy put the car in park, which was just as Sandy was about to raise the subject of Ryan's mother.

Seth was waiting for an elevator by the time Sandy caught up to him. When the car came, Seth stepped in and Sandy debated waiting for the next car. Throwing caution to the wind, he stepped into the car with his son.

"Dad, just promise me two things."

"If I can promise, I will." As a lawyer and a parent, Sandy knew better than to grant his son an open-ended promise.

"One, that you'll warn Ryan that you talked to his mother."

Sandy nodded. "Has he said something to you?" He knew that Dawn's abandonment was one of Ryan's many issues. It was something that Ryan wouldn't talk about, however. At least, not to Sandy. He suspected that Kirsten might be the only person Ryan would open up to on the topic.

"No, but you saw his face the morning she left. And you were there when she took off the first time." Seth paused. "Two, that you won't let her hurt him again."

"You know I wouldn't let that happen again, Seth." Sandy squeezed Seth's shoulder. "If I could have, I would've stopped her the first time."

Father and son stepped out into a hallway, where the doors leading to the ICU waiting room loomed ahead of them.

Sandy checked his watch. "We've got a few minutes until visiting hours."

When they entered the waiting room, Kristen was seated in one of the chairs along the wall, flipping through a magazine.

"Mom?" Seth crossed the wide room in three strides.

Kirsten stood, quickly hugged Seth and kissed his cheek, then turned and hugged Sandy, who reluctantly let her go. "Dr. Jenkins is making her rounds with some residents." She smiled. "It got a little crowded. I was surprised you two weren't here when I came out."

Seth blew out a breath. "Can you _not_ wait out here next time?"

"I'm sorry, honey."

"How's Ryan?" Sandy asked.

"He's been dozing on and off." Kirsten shook her head. "The nurse checks on him about every fifteen or twenty minutes and that wakes him up." She smiled. "Other than that, he's doing pretty well." She put an arm around Seth's shoulders. "Which you'll both see in about two minutes." She looked over at Sandy. "So, what took you so long?"

"Dawn called. She recognized the number on her Caller I.D."

"Is she coming, or . . .?" Kirsten let the question hang.

Sandy nodded. "I'm meeting her downstairs at 9:30. I didn't want to give her any details over the phone. She sounded upset enough."

Dr. Jenkins stepped through the doors leading into the ICU and joined the Cohen family. "Good morning." She smiled. "I have good news. Ryan's doing quite well and we'll be transferring him to the stepdown unit later today."

"Are there any restrictions on visitors?" Sandy looked over at his wife. "Marissa called and I promised to check."

"I'm afraid it's family only. Sorry. An adult can stay with Ryan. And visiting hours for family are 8:00 to 12:00 and 2:00 to 6:00, without the ten minute limit."

"How long will Ryan have to stay on the stepdown unit?" Kirsten asked.

"If he continues to do as well as he's doing, I'd say three days at most." Dr. Jenkins paused. "From there, we'll keep him another three to four days and then we'll release him home." She smiled and winked at Kirsten. "Jenny's already put in for her transfers."

Sandy and Seth exchanged a bewildered look.

"Ahhh, I get it. Ryan's a big hit with the nurses, Dad."

"Thanks for filling me in, son."

Dr. Jenkins gently brushed Kirsten's arm. "Perhaps while your husband and son are visiting Ryan, you should grab a bite to eat."

"I'm fine." Kirsten's stomach growled, then gurgled.

Sandy kissed his wife's temple. "Your stomach says otherwise. I've got a better idea."

Kirsten drew back and regarded him with one arched eyebrow.

"Let me take the day shift. You've been up all night."

"Yeah, Mom, you don't wanna end up sharing a room with Ryan. Trust me."

Kirsten looked to Dr. Jenkins for support. She was tired, but otherwise she felt fine. She'd managed to nap with Ryan between the nurse's checks.

"I concur, Mrs. Cohen." Dr. Jenkins smiled. "I'll leave you to settle this in private."

Kirsten watched the doctor depart, then turned to Sandy. "What about Dawn?"

"All the more reason for you to take Seth home after he visits and get some rest. I've got to wait for Dawn anyway."

Seth leaned toward Sandy. "Marissa?"

Sandy checked his watch. "It's five to eight now." He pulled the keys to his car from his pocket and handed them to Seth. "Drive your mom home and you two can meet me back here at 3:00." He was pleasantly surprised when Seth didn't argue about getting only one ten minute visit with his friend.

"I'll deny this if you ever repeat it, but Dad's got a plan, Mom."

Kirsten hugged the lanky boy. "All right. You two win." She tousled the unruly hair. "No fair ganging up on me."

"We guys gotta stick together, Mom." Seth grinned.

The door to the ICU opened and Jenny leaned out. "We're ready for you, Mrs. Cohen."

Kirsten turned to Sandy and Seth. "There are a lot of tubes and wires, but they're nothing to worry about," she warned.

The Cohens followed Jenny through the doors and down the hall to Ryan's room. A nurse was placing Ryan's chart in a holder next to the door. She was petite, with shoulder length blond hair and blue-green eyes that needed no enhancement with color contact lenses.

"Ciara, these are the Cohens. Ryan's family." Jenny turned to the Cohens. "Ciara will be taking care of Ryan today."

Seth stepped forward. "I'm Seth . . . Seth Cohen."

Kirsten covered her mouth and coughed to disguise a chuckle at her son's not-quite-smooth style. Something else he inherited from his father.

Ciara smiled. "It's nice to meet you, Seth." She nodded to Sandy and Kirsten. "And you, too, Mr. and Mrs. Cohen." She reached around the frame and knocked lightly on the open door. "Your family's back, Ryan." She stepped back. "I'll be back in ten minutes."

"Thanks." Sandy let Kirsten lead the way into the room. He was prepared for the tubes, wires and machines, but not the sight of the pale boy lying in the bed at the center of it all.

Ryan waved with his left hand. "Hey." His voice was hoarse and barely audible.

Seth set the backpack on the table at the end of the bed as Kirsten sat in the chair. Sandy took the only other free space, to the left of his wife's chair.

"Ryan, in this pack I have a wide assortment of activities to keep you both occupied and entertained." Seth opened the pack. "We've got your Gameboys, reading materials and . . . ta-da!" With a flourish he produced the final installment of _Legion_. "Hot off the presses Tuesday and never been read." He leaned forward, handing the tome to his friend.

"Thanks, Seth." Ryan smiled. He examined the cover, then looked back at Seth. "You haven't read it, yet?" He frowned. "You always read 'em first."

Seth gestured to Ryan. "I give that honor to you this time, my good man."

Ryan's smile broadened. "Awesome. Thanks, Seth." He set the comic book down on the bed. "I'll read it later and give it back to you."

Unlike his son, Sandy was at a loss for words.

Seth pulled a paperback copy of _Great Expectations _from the bag. "Oh, and my dad made me bring this, too," he teased, displaying the book, then setting it on the tray.

"I had nothing to do with that," Sandy said defensively. "I would've brought something from the 20th Century."

"Cool." Ryan cleared his throat. "I'm about . . . ." He winced as he swallowed. "Halfway through . . .."

Kirsten stood. "Your throat, again?"

Ryan nodded.

"I hate that stuff," Seth commented as Kirsten retrieved the bottle from the cabinet and navigated around the monitors on the left side the bed. "It makes my mouth go all numb and I drool."

Kirsten steadied Ryan's head, depressed the pump twice into Ryan's open mouth, then put the bottle back in the cabinet.

Ryan swallowed. "So, you use . . . throat spray . . . right before you . . . see Summer?"

Seth rolled his eyes. "Almost, Ryan. But you were a little slow on the uptake."

Ryan grinned. "I couldn't talk."

Seth nodded. "All right. Your timing's still so-so, but don't give up that job at the Crab Shack."

Ryan lifted his hand to his chest. "Owww." He grinned.

"Well, Ryan, it's good to see that you're up to trading witty banter with Seth." Sandy finally spoke.

"Somebody has to take up the slack for you and Mom," Seth quipped. "Bam!" He grinned at his parents.

Ryan laughed, then winced and clutched his right side. "Still can't . . . laugh, Seth."

A soft knock on the door interrupted Seth's comeback. "Sorry, guys."

Kirsten turned to Ciara. "Can you give us a minute?" She looked at Seth at Ciara's nod. "Seth, I'll meet you in the waiting room." As Seth started to argue she pointed to the door. "Private conversation."

"Fine. Whatever." Seth walked from the end of the bed, motioning for Sandy to step back. He leaned over the rail and awkwardly hugged Ryan. "Catch you later."

"Later, dude." Ryan lifted his arm, his hand closed in a fist. "Thanks for . . . the stuff."

"Gotta watch out for the brother." Seth touched knuckles with Ryan, then turned to his father. "Guard that bag with your life, Dad."

Sandy smiled and squeezed Seth's shoulder. He watched his son walk out of the room and turn down the hall, then looked across the bed at Kirsten.

"Ryan, Sandy's going to stay with you today. Is that okay?"

Ryan nodded. "You didn't . . . sleep." He looked from Sandy, to Kirsten and back to Sandy. "That it?"

"Ryan, we called your mom. She's really worried and someone's bringing her down here this morning." Calling Dawn had been Kirsten's idea, but Sandy had done the deed, so he elected to take the blame, if blame was on the agenda.

Ryan shrugged.

"Ryan, if you don't want to see her, we'll understand." Kirsten carefully took his hand, avoiding the I.V. "We thought she had a right to know," she explained.

"You're probably . . . right." Ryan sighed, the expression on his face a combination of confusion and betrayal. "I'm tired, now." His eyes said he wanted to be left alone, as well.

Kirsten leaned down and gently kissed his forehead. She smiled down at him, placing her hand beneath his chin. "It's your decision, Ryan. Just let Sandy know, okay?"

Ryan nodded silently.

Sandy squeezed Ryan's shoulder. "Just say the word."

"I'll see you this afternoon," Kirsten promised, then made her way around the bed, stopping at the door for one last wave.

When Kirsten was gone, Ryan looked up at Sandy. "You've had her phone number all this time?" His tone was more hurt than angry.

"I had the number for the Laundromat where she worked when we first found her," Sandy responded. "I called and told the lady working there last night about the situation with you and that it was urgent that I get in touch with your mother. Your mom was still working there and I got her home number."

"What time will she get here?"

"Around 9:30. I'm meeting her in the lobby." Sandy paused. "Ryan, we wouldn't have called your mom . . . if Seth were sick, Kirsten and I would want to know about it."

"You and Kirsten . . . wouldn't . . . be in this . . . situation," Ryan said angrily, then shook his head. "I can't . . . deal with this." He turned his head away and closed his eyes.

Sandy wanted to tell Ryan that he was wrong, but had the sense to let it drop. The truth was that Kirsten and Sandy could have found themselves in the same predicament with Seth that Dawn had gotten herself into with Ryan.

Sandy had once told Ryan that things in Newport Beach weren't always what they seemed. That had been as true with the Cohens as with their neighbors and friends. He and Kirsten had had no idea what kind of games Seth was playing, what movies he was watching, or what he was doing shut up in his room from the time he got home from school until the time he left in the morning. They certainly hadn't been as close as they'd become since Ryan's stay with them had become permanent.

Seth might have run away, which he'd admitted to thinking about the night he and Sandy looked for Ryan. At the very least, Seth would've chosen a college as far away as he could get from California, and thanks to Caleb's trust fund, he would never need his parents, so the calls and visits home would be few and far between.

Sandy sat in the chair, sat back and crossed his arms. After a minute, he sat forward and uncrossed them to lean on the rail. He had the feeling he was in for a long day.

**9:45 a.m.**

After calling Marissa and explaining the visitors' policies, Sandy went to the lobby to wait for Dawn. She was late and he wondered if she would show up at all.

Sandy paced the lobby, stopping frequently to scan the faces crossing the parking lot and coming into the hospital. He checked his watch, wondering if Dawn had changed her mind about coming to see Ryan and felt a mixture of relief and disappointment. Ryan didn't seem to be ready to see his mother, but Sandy knew it would be better for Ryan to either forgive his mother, or find a way to stop blaming himself so that he could move on without that particular sword hanging over his head. And Dawn choosing not to come after saying she would certainly wouldn't help Ryan accomplish that.

A dilapidated green Toyota pulled up in front of the hospital. When it stopped, the passenger door opened and Dawn stepped out, leaning in to grab a bag from the rear seat. She said something to the driver, then straightened and closed the door.

Sandy met her at the entrance. "Hi, Dawn."

"Sandy, right?" Dawn frowned. "Where's Ryan? What's going on? What happened? When can I see him?"

"They're moving Ryan right now. It'll be about 45 minutes."

"He doesn't want to see me, does he?" Tears welled in Dawn's eyes.

Sandy shook his head. "Why don't we grab a cup of coffee and I'll fill you in?"

Dawn regarded him suspiciously for a minute, then nodded. "Sure."

Sandy motioned toward a hallway to their right. "The cafeteria's right down here."

When they reached the cafeteria, Sandy gently guided Dawn to a table. "I'll be right back."

Sandy grabbed a tray and went around the service line to the coffee pots at the back. He filled two large cups with coffee, tossed an assortment of creamers, sweeteners and sugars on the tray, grabbed two stirrers, then headed for the cashier. Absently he watched Dawn while he waited in line. He paid for the coffee, shoved the change in his pocket and picked up the tray.

"I brought a little bit of everything." Sandy set the tray on the table, then sat down and took one of the cups.

"I don't understand how this happened," Dawn said as she emptied three packs of sugar into her coffee. "Ryan's always been a healthy kid."

The healed rib fractures on Ryan's chest x-ray and the nose that had obviously been broken at least once said otherwise, but Sandy kept that to himself. "Healthy kids get appendicitis."

"Yeah, I know. Sorry." Dawn blew on her coffee, then sipped. "When did it happen?"

"Last night. Ryan didn't feel well yesterday when he got up, but we thought it was just a stomach virus, or the flu. He . . . felt worse around dinner time, so we brought him in." Sandy paused. "The only treatment is an appendectomy, which was done last night. Ryan was in ICU until a little while ago because of a minor complication with the general anesthetic. I didn't want to tell you that on the phone." He paused again. "His appendix ruptured before it was removed, which is why he's going to the stepdown unit instead of a regular room."

Dawn's hand went to her mouth. "Oh, no . . .."

Sandy held up a hand. "Ryan's doing fine now. In fact, he's being moved to the stepdown unit as we speak." He paused and sipped from his coffee. "He'll be there for a few days. They're giving him I.V. antibiotics and monitoring him to be sure there's no infection. In a few days, his surgeon'll transfer him to a regular room."

"Will I be able to see him?" Tears welled again in Dawn's eyes.

"Dawn, that's gonna be up to Ryan," Sandy said quietly. "He hasn't gotten over . . .."

Dawn nodded, then sobbed. "I know."

"Dawn, don't . . .." Sandy stood, walked to the cash register and grabbed a handful of napkins. When he returned to the table, he handed them to Dawn. "Why didn't you at least talk to him, Dawn?"

Dawn wiped her eyes and dabbed her nose. "I couldn't. I would've screwed that up, too." She blew her nose, then shrugged. "I thought it would be better if I just left."

Sandy blinked. "So Ryan could think it was his fault and not yours?" He shook his head. "Because I'm guessing that's what he thought."

Dawn looked down at the table.

"That was out of line, Dawn. I'm sorry." Sandy sat back in his chair. "Ryan'll probably be asleep by the time we get back upstairs. You can sit with him while he's asleep, but if he wakes up and wants you to leave, you'll have to leave."

Dawn nodded. "Yeah, sure. I understand."

"Kirsten will be back at 3:00, or I can have Seth come pick you up. If you want, you can stay at the poolhouse. Maybe give Ryan a few days to get his strength back."

"I'll figure something out," Dawn said quietly.

Sandy sipped his coffee and checked his watch. "We can probably head upstairs now."

Dawn downed her coffee, then picked her pack up from the floor and stood. "I do love him, you know." She sighed. "I wish you and your wife could understand."

"So do I," Sandy admitted. "Ryan's a good kid. That's why we _don't_ understand."

"He wouldn't be if he stayed with me." Dawn looked away, then back at Sandy. "Is there a ladies' room?"

Sandy checked the signs. "I think it's down the hall we came through to get here." He followed Dawn as she left the cafeteria. "Do you want me to wait?"

"What floor?"

"Six. You'll probably have to check with the desk."

Dawn nodded. "I'll meet you up there."

Sandy watched Dawn disappear into the ladies' room.

**2:30 p.m.**

"We'll be fine, Sandy. Take your time."

Ryan heard his mother's voice and thought he was dreaming. He didn't think his side should hurt so much in a dream, or that the antiseptic smell of the hospital and the metallic smell of the oxygen should make his stomach turn flips. He never thought he'd dream about an uncomfortable tube down his nose. Then again, HOAG was in Newport Beach and nothing was what he expected it to be.

Ryan tried to ignore the pain, scents and tube. If he could manage that for just a minute, he might be able to go so deep he wouldn't dream at all. He drifted, but sounds in the hallway and his room kept him close to the surface.

Slowly, Ryan opened his eyes and looked around. The room was bigger and a different color. He frowned.

"Oh, Ryan, baby. Thank God you're awake." His mother was standing over him.

Ryan flinched as she reached toward his face. "Where's Kirsten? Where's Sandy?"

His mother looked hurt, but Ryan couldn't worry about that right now.

"Where am I? How long was I asleep?" If Mom moved him, Kirsten, Sandy and Seth would never find him.

"It's okay, baby." Mom smiled at him. "They moved you out of ICU. Sandy's down the hall. Too much coffee."

Ryan closed his eyes, hoping this was a nightmare.

"If you want me to leave . . .." Mom sniffled. "I'll understand."

Ryan opened his eyes to find his mother crying. This wasn't a nightmare, it was just his life. He'd hoped his mother would come, but he didn't want her here. He'd hoped Sandy and Kirsten would decide for him and tell her to go away, so what he wanted wouldn't matter. She left him, but she would always be his mother. And he loved her, even when she hurt him. "Don't leave. I'm tired." He groaned. "Hurts."

"Don't worry, baby. Mom's here." She pushed the call button on the rail.

"Yes?"

"Could somebody come in and give my son something for the pain?" Mom smiled down at him. When she reached out to touch his face, Ryan had to consciously fight the urge to flinch.

A woman with long, curly blond hair and large brown eyes came into the room. "Hi, Ryan. I'm Anna." She came around the bed and stopped next to the I.V. stand.

"Hey." Ryan tried to smile, but the way he felt, he was pretty sure it looked more like a grimace.

"I know, it might burn," Ryan muttered as Anna swabbed the port.

Anna laughed softly and Ryan wished he were ten years older, since being asked out by a 16 year old boy stopped being cool after a girl turned 17.

Ryan hissed as Anna injected the port.

Anna patted his shoulder. "You'll start feeling better in a minute."

"Thanks, Anna." Ryan smiled and was pretty sure he managed to pull it off.

Anna turned and checked the monitor, then turned back to Ryan. "I'll be back to check on you in about 15 minutes."

"I'll try and stay awake," Ryan promised, blushing when Anna smiled at him.

"Smooth, Ry," Mom said once Anna was gone.

"What?" Ryan had hoped his mom wouldn't notice him noticing the nurse.

"She's old enough to be your mother. Or at least your babysitter."

"She's hot. I'm 16." Ryan rolled his eyes. Hadn't she been through this with Trey. Age wasn't an issue when the girl was good looking and the boy was 16 or 17.

Sandy's return to the room saved Ryan from further embarrassment. With any luck, Sandy would give his mom a clue. He was a smart guy.

"Hey," Ryan said gratefully.

"Hey, yourself." Sandy squeezed his shoulder. "How're you feeling?"

The shot was starting to work. "Okay, now. Where's Kirsten?"

If Ryan had been looking at his mom, instead of Sandy, he would've seen the funny look that passed across her face.

"She and Seth should be back any minute." Sandy looked over at Dawn. "Your mom's been here since this morning. She's been worried about you."

Ryan had been worried about his mom for months. Where she'd gone when she left him. How she was living. Who was living with her this time. What she wanted from him. Why he couldn't make her happy.

"You okay, baby?"

Ryan looked guiltily at his mom, then nodded. "That shot's really kickin' in." He blinked. "Gettin' sleepy."

"Don't stay awake on our account. Get some rest." Sandy patted Ryan's arm.

"He wants to be awake when that nurse comes back." Mom snickered.

"Yeah, thanks, Mom."

"The curvy blond?" Sandy nodded. "I don't blame him. She's hot."

"You're not helping, Sandy." If he read, maybe his mom and Sandy wouldn't talk anymore. Ryan tried to sit up and his side protested, in spite of the painkiller. He froze and groaned.

"Whoa, Ryan." Sandy helped Ryan out of the uncomfortable position. "What do you need?"

"_Legion_. I wanted to read it before Seth got back."

Sandy crossed to a small love seat on the far wall and pulled Seth's bag from underneath it. He opened the bag and brought the last installment in the series back to the bed. "There you go."

"I can't read it like this. It'll bend the pages." Ryan wondered if he'd be able to focus his eyes long enough to read.

"So, bend the pages."

Ryan rolled his eyes, which made him a little dizzy. "Seth hasn' read it, yet. He'll be mad." There was another reason not to bend the pages, but he couldn't remember it. He'd never had comic books. Except the ones Trey stole and sold to kids at school.

Sandy squeezed Ryan's shoulder. "Under the circumstances, Ryan, I think Seth'll understand." He paused. "And to tell you the truth, I don't think you're up to reading right now."

Ryan's eyelids felt heavier. He heard _Legion_ flutter as Sandy moved it. "'M 'kay."

His mom laughed. "Don't worry, Sandy, he'll drop in about two seconds."

Ryan forced his eyes open, determined to prove his mother wrong. Everything was fuzzy around the edges.

"When he was 2, we used to have to turn off all the lights and pretend to go to bed just to get Ryan to sleep." Mom laughed. "When Ryan was about 4, we rented _Wizard of Oz_ so the boys could see it without commercials. One minute, Ryan was sitting up watching the movie and the next minute, he was crashed face down on the pillows. Dorothy hadn't even gotten to the Yellow Brick Road, yet. That movie scared Trey, my oldest, half to death, but Ryan slept right through the movie _and_ all the noise his brother made."

Kirsten's stories didn't seem so bad compared to that one. "Leas' I wadn't scared," Ryan muttered, as his eyes closed on their own.

Mom touched his cheek. "Kiddo, you never made it to the scary parts. Your brother did."

"Yo, Ry -" Seth's voice.

"Shhhh." Ryan couldn't tell who the shush came from.

Ryan managed to pull his eyes to half-mast to find Kirsten standing next to the bed. He smiled as she leaned down and kissed his forehead. He saw her smile, then his eyes closed and he drifted away.

**7:30 p.m.**

For the first time since her arrival that afternoon, Kirsten was alone in Ryan's room with Dawn. While Sandy and Seth were there, Dawn had been pleasant enough. Although Kirsten had caught a few strange looks from Ryan's mother over the past three hours. Once Sandy and Seth went downstairs to have dinner, Kirsten had settled in the chair next to Ryan's bed to read while he slept.

"I can't believe with my genes and his father's, my kid's such a lightweight."

Kirsten lifted her head and felt the muscles of her face form into a frown before she could stop them. "Ryan had surgery less than 24 hours ago. I was surprised he's been awake and talking as much as he has." She went back to her magazine.

"What's your problem with me?" There was no mistaking the belligerence in Dawn's voice.

Kirsten never looked up from the magazine. "I don't have a problem with you, Dawn. If I did, Sandy wouldn't have called you."

"He's still my kid."

Ryan groaned, then mumbled. When Kirsten looked up, he was struggling to open his eyes.

Kirsten stood, leaned over the rail and kissed Ryan's forehead. "You're okay, Ryan. Go back to sleep," she whispered. She stroked his hair. "You're safe and all's right with the world."

Ryan turned his head toward Kirsten, mumbled again, then was still. After a minute to be sure the boy was asleep again, she turned her attention to his mother. "Dawn, now isn't the time and this isn't the place."

"What better time and place?" Dawn stood and walked over to the bed, leaning on the rail across from Kirsten. "A few months ago, you didn't want Ryan in your house. Now you're acting like he's your kid, not mine." Her voice rose and she angrily tapped the center of her chest.

"A few months ago, _you_ abandoned _your son_ with my family." Kirsten struggled to keep her own voice even, hoping the other woman would take the hint.

Dawn glared. "I need a cigarette." She walked around the bed and stopped next to Kirsten. "I _can_ smoke outside, can't I? Or do you own this hospital, too?"

"You do whatever you want, Dawn." Kirsten turned back to Ryan, ignoring his mother's departure. "That's what you're good at."

After a few minutes, Kirsten picked her magazine up from the chair and sat down again. When the door opened suddenly, she turned and stood.

"What's with Dawn?" Sandy asked. "She passed us in the hall lookin' like she was ready to kill."

"We had a bit of a disagreement." Kirsten squinted up at the clock. "It's getting late. Why don't you find Dawn, tell her visiting hours are over and take her back to the house. I'll stay with Ryan tonight."

"Was that what the disagreement was about?" Sandy's bewildered expression was the same one he got when he walked in on the middle of one of Rosa's Spanish soaps.

Kirsten glanced at Seth, deciding not to exclude him. "I'm not really sure what the disagreement was about. Although Dawn seems to have taken exception to how I treat Ryan now."

"And what do you plan to do if Dawn won't go with us?"

Sandy's ability to confront the downside was one of the things that made him a brilliant lawyer. "I'll tell the nurses that I'm staying with Ryan and they won't let her back in this room." Kirsten paused. "She can walk to the house, or find a motel, or call her friend to bring her back to wherever she's living."

Seth nodded appreciatively. "Way to go, Mom."

"C'mere." Kirsten pulled Seth into a hug. "I love you, Seth." She rubbed his back. "You know that, don't you?"

Seth returned the hug, then kissed his mother's cheek. "I love you, too, Mom."

Kirsten pulled back. "You're not jealous that I'm staying here with Ryan again, are you?"

Seth shook his head. "Nah. If it were me . . .." He shrugged. "Besides, like I told Ryan, I've been _praying_ for someone to get you and Dad off my back."

Kirsten laughed. "We weren't that bad, were we?"

Seth waggled his right hand, palm down.

"The grass is always greener, son." Sandy looked over at Ryan, whom he was sure had probably prayed for positive attention from his parents. Often.

"Mom, if you wanna run down and grab something to eat, Dad and I can be Ryan's bodyguards until you get back."

"I'm still full from that wonderful lunch you made for me." Kirsten kissed Seth's cheek. "If I get hungry, I'll have one of the aides sit with Ryan while I go downstairs."

Seth hugged Kirsten a final time, then leaned over the bed. "Later, Ryan." He patted Ryan's shoulder. "I'll go guard the door in case the Wicked Witch of San Bernardino comes back."

"None of that in front of Dawn, Seth." Sandy pointed a finger at his son.

"Like, duh, Dad." Seth opened the door and stepped out into the hall.

"Now, you c'mere." Kirsten pulled Sandy close and kissed him for the first time that day.

"Wow, what was that for?" Sandy arched one ample eyebrow.

Kirsten smiled. "I owe you."

The other eyebrow joined the first. "Really? And in front of Ryan, too." The brows waggled.

Kirsten laughed quietly. "He's sound asleep." She kissed her husband again. "I don't want you to feel neglected, either," she said finally.

"Being a good mother is one of your finest qualities." Sandy kissed Kirsten's forehead. "I'd better get out into the hall before one of the nurses takes Seth's mind off his guard duties."

It was Kirsten's turn to arch a perfect brow. "Checking out the nurses, Sandy?" Her tone was more teasing than accusatory.

"I have eyes. And I'm not dead." Sandy grinned. After a final kiss, he turned to Ryan. "I'll see you tomorrow, Ryan." He squeezed the boy's shoulder. "Probably with more stuff from Seth's room."


	5. Chapter 5

See Chapters 1 and 4 for Disclaimers, etc.

"It's a Mom Thing"

by Lisa O'Brien

Copyright September, 2003

**CHAPTER FIVE**

**Saturday, October 4**

**9:30 a.m.**

Ryan watched Kirsten as she surveyed his hospital room and chewed on a thumbnail. He was happy to be out of the stepdown unit and free of all the tubes, leads and wires he'd spent the past four days hooked up to. He was still stuck with an I.V. and antibiotics that made him a little sick to his stomach, but his side hurt less and less and he didn't need painkillers. That meant he could start staying awake during the day and sleeping at night like normal people.

Kirsten turned her head toward him. "I still think it needs something, don't you?"

Ryan laughed. "You're as bad as Seth, Kirsten." He motioned around the room. "It's Spartan. I like it."

Kirsten sat at the foot of the bed. "I guess if it's only for three more days."

"Good plan." Ryan nodded. "Another plan is for you to go home now and get some rest."

"Those beds are pretty comfortable."

Ryan raised an eyebrow. "So you tossed and turned 'cause that's what you normally do?"

Kirsten sighed. "All right, they could be a little more comfortable."

"Kirsten, I really appreciate you staying here with me every night, but you don't have to."

"I didn't stay because I had to, Ryan." Kirsten smiled. "Being alone in a hospital isn't any fun."

"Thanks to Seth, I've got plenty to keep me busy." Ryan waved at the stack of comics and books on the table next to the bed. "And I need some 'Me Time'." He grinned. "If I finish _Great Expectations_ today, I can turn my report in early and start on the next one."

Kirsten grinned, then winked. "I don't know, Ryan. Somebody ought to be here to keep the nurses from trying to take advantage of you in your weakened state." She laughed when Ryan's ears flushed.

Ryan hoped to God Kirsten didn't know about what had happened with Gabrielle. Then again, he didn't think she'd be all that happy with him if she knew. She definitely wouldn't be grinning at him.

Ryan was about to respond when his mother walked into the room. She was still wearing her sunglasses. Not a good sign.

Kirsten patted Ryan's leg, then stood. "Morning, Dawn."

Mom ignored Kirsten and walked over to the bed. She leaned down and hugged Ryan. "How's my baby this morning?"

Things had been weird between Kirsten and his mother, but Ryan had no idea why. "Fine, Mom." He pulled back as the unmistakable smell of whiskey assaulted his nose. He stared up at Mom, trying to see whether she was hung over, or still under the influence.

"What're you looking at?" He'd already pissed his mom off. Three seconds had to be an all time record for him.

Ryan shook his head and dropped his eyes. "Nuthin'."

Mom straightened and regarded Kirsten with one eyebrow raised. "Do you mind if I spend some time alone with my kid?"

Kirsten smiled. "Not at all, Dawn." She walked to the head of the bed and kissed Ryan's cheek. "Call me if you need anything."

"If he needs anything, I'm here."

Ryan's head snapped toward his mother. "Stop it, Mom." He took a breath. "Please."

Anger flashed across Mom's face, then disappeared. "All right, Ry. I'm sorry." She turned to Kirsten. "Sorry. Long night." The apology was sarcastic, rather than sincere.

"We'll hang out. It'll be okay." The best thing for Kirsten to do would be get the Hell out of Dodge. The determined expression suggested that wasn't part of her plan.

Kirsten leaned down and kissed Ryan's forehead. "We're five minutes away."

"What is with you?" Mom asked angrily. "Have you two got somethin' goin' on the side?"

"Mom!" Ryan winced as his side protested. "Don't do this."

Kirsten turned to Mom. "One of the first signs of an infection is a fever. It's also comforting to a child to check their temperature without them knowing that's what you're doing." She frowned. "Didn't you know that, Dawn?"

Mom snickered. "Sure, Kirsten." She pulled the remote from the bed and dropped down on the couch on the far side of the room. She turned the T.V. on.

Ryan's eyes begged Kirsten to leave. To his relief, she got the message and nodded. Silently, she squeezed his hand, picked up her purse from the chair and left.

Ryan sighed, closed his eyes and leaned back into the pillow. His mother should have been grateful to the Cohens for taking him in. Especially Kirsten. If they hadn't, he would've ended up in foster care, or juvie, or on the streets. He'd probably be dead now, not in a nice hospital, in a private room. He didn't want to think about what all this was costing the Cohens.

Ryan couldn't figure out what was going on between Kirsten and his mom. It started after his first night in the stepdown unit. Kirsten stayed with him that night, instead of his mom. That wasn't all that strange, since his mom hadn't stayed with him when he'd had his tonsils out when he was 7. Mom's condition this morning was evidence that she was being true to form. Seth would call it "Exhibit A."

So, why would Mom care who stayed with him when he was 16?

The tonsillectomy hadn't been that bad. He'd been scared when first woke up alone, but the nurses read to him and played with him when he was feeling better. It wasn't all that long before he stopped missing his mom. He'd cried when he didn't get to go home with Anna, his favorite nurse. His luck with anyone named Anna was apparently doomed to failure by The Fates.

A soft knock interrupted Ryan's meditation. A tall woman in a white coat and scrubs came into the room. She was carrying a plastic basket with compartments that had packages and tubes sticking out of them. His morning was going downhill fast.

"Morning, Ryan. I'm Brandy." Brandy set the basket on the tray at the end of the bed, then rolled it over. "I'm from Respiratory Therapy."

Ryan nodded. "Hi."

"I'm just here to evaluate you and make sure you aren't having any problems with fluid build-up in your lungs." Brandy paused. "I'm also going to start you on some breathing techniques to keep you from having any problems down the road."

"Shouldn't you have been doing that all along?" Mom butted in. "I never saw any of you people upstairs. What kind of hospital is this?"

Brandy turned briefly to his mother. "Not while Ryan had an NG tube and was on telemetry." She turned back to Ryan. "Here, let me help you sit up and forward a little."

"I've got it." Ryan held his right side. Sitting up still hurt like Hell. Leaning forward was worse.

Brandy lifted her stethescope and blew on the disk. "These things are always so cold." She moved his gown aside and placed the disk on his chest. "Deep breath for me."

Ryan obeyed and his side protested.

"Here let's try this." Brandy pulled the pillow from behind Ryan and set it across his abdomen.

"Ry, you coulda used that when Kirsten was here." Mom giggled.

"Mom!"

"Ma'am, I'm gonna have to ask you to step out into the hall so you don't distract me from my patient again."

"Fine." Mom stood and stormed out of the room.

Thankfully, Brandy acted as though his mother had never been there. She placed the disk back on his chest. "All right, Ryan. Deep breath."

The pillow helped, but only a little. Brandy moved the stethescope to his back, asking him to take a breath. She repeated the procedure, moving the disk several times. Ryan had never thought of sitting up as a particularly difficult task, but this morning it was. He was relieved when she took the earpieces out, folded the stethescope and put it back in her pocket. Gratefully, he sank back to the bed.

"Do you need a minute?"

"I thought you were done." Ryan slowly and painfully sat up again.

Brandy took a tube with a ping pong ball stuck inside from the basket. She opened a package and snapped a mouthpiece onto the tube. "This is a spirometer. You blow into it and try to keep the ball up for as long as you can. Okay?"

Ryan nodded and took the spirometer. It sounded a lot easier than it was.

"Have you had any trouble breathing?" Brandy dropped the spirometer into the basket and picked up a chart.

Ryan shook his head. He'd been breathing fine until a minute ago.

"Any coughing?"

"No." Ryan had finally recovered from the spirometer.

"Any tightness in your chest? Or pain?"

"No and no." Ryan frowned. "Is something wrong?" He regretted sending Kirsten home.

"You have a little fluid in your lungs, but that's not unusual after surgery and being in stepdown." Brandy put the chart down. "The first thing we've got to do is get that fluid moving." She put one hand on the pillow and one hand on his back. "This one's easy. You're just gonna cough."

Ryan groaned when the white hot pain came back with the third cough.

"That's enough for now." Brandy took the pillow from his stomach, put it behind him and helped Ryan lie back. She picked up the chart, made a quick note, then put it down again. "When you feel up to it, I want you to sit up, take a few deep breaths, fill your lungs up, then slowly let each breath out. And keep the pillow on your stomach. That'll cushion your abdomen."

"Not much," Ryan muttered, then blushed. "Sorry."

Brandy laughed. "You're probably right." She picked up the chart and basket. "I'll be back to see you tomorrow morning. In the meantime, you do the deep breathing and keep coughing."

"Okay, thanks." Ryan watched Brandy leave, then closed his eyes. Maybe the tubes and wires hadn't been so bad after all.

Ryan opened his eyes and shifted to get more comfortable. Once that was taken care of, he reached over and picked up _Great Expectations_. If he read, he would be still. If he was still, his side would stop hurting.

His mom breezed back into the room before he'd finished the first sentence. At least she didn't have the sunglasses on. When she hugged him, pain flared in his right side.

"Oww, Mom, be careful." Ryan pulled away from her.

"Oh, it's not that bad. Where's my tough guy?" Mom laughed.

"Not here," Ryan mumbled.

"What'd I tell you about your smart mouth?" Mom's index finger was a warning shot. Probably the only one he'd get.

Ryan took a deep breath, counted to ten, then let it out. "My side hurts. I'm sorry." It sickened him that they both fell into the familiar pattern so quickly.

"Haven't they given you your pain shot yet?"

"I don't need it."

Mom snorted. "Hey, enjoy it while you can. It's legal and the Cohens are paying for it." She hit the call button.

"Please, Mom. I don't want another shot. Please."

Mom shrugged. "Fine."

"Yes." A woman's voice responded to Mom's call.

"Nevermind," Ryan answered. "Sorry."

"They've really done a number on you, kid."

That one came out of left field and Ryan frowned. "Who?" He'd have to be careful, or this could get very ugly, very quickly.

"Kirsten and that husband of hers, and their kid."

Ryan had to count to ten again. "Mom, the Cohens are nice people. I don't understand why -"

"Do you want me to leave?" Mom's bloodshot eyes filled with tears.

"No, Mom, I don't want you to leave." Ryan's chest was starting to hurt, but he was pretty sure it was just stress. He dropped the book to the bed, crossed his arms and leaned back. "Please, Mom, don't do this. I'm glad you came." He hoped she'd at least tell him good-bye when she left this time.

Mom sat down on the bed and hugged Ryan again. He didn't have the strength to pull away from her, or get out of the bed.

"We can work things out, can't we, Kiddo?" Mom brushed his hair back and smiled at him.

Ryan nodded. "Yeah, we can work things out."

Mom kissed his forehead. "You're all I've got left, Ry. I don't want to lose you, too."

"You won't, Mom." Ryan swallowed, but the lump in his throat stayed put. "We just have to take things slow, okay?" He didn't want to go down this road again. He didn't have the strength. "And please don't be mad at the Cohens. They can help us. They want to help us."

Mom cupped his chin in her hand. "We don't need them, baby."

Maybe his mom didn't need them, but Ryan did. His emotional life had always been a minefield. He never knew when something would set it off. But in the months he'd lived with the Cohens, he was learning where those mines were and he was managing to avoid them most of the time. He'd managed to disarm the ones about his mother and his family, with a little help from Kirsten.

Losing the Cohens would put him back in the middle of that minefield with no way out. That would land him in jail, or the morgue before he was 18.

**11:15 a.m.**

Ryan was downright nostalgic for the stepdown unit by the time he and a physical therapist finished his first walk around the surgical floor of the hospital. He'd thought walking with broken ribs was tough. He'd never tried walking after surgery.

"You're doing great, Ryan," Kathy, the physical therapist, said as they turned back into the hall that led to Ryan's room.

The door seemed miles away. "Yeah, I'm ambulatory now. HOAG better watch out."

"I've had patients turn back after less than 20 feet. You made it all the way around the floor." Kathy smiled. "I'm impressed."

The only good thing about the walk had been that it got Ryan away from his mother. He'd had a few scary minutes when he thought she was going to follow them. Luckily, she'd found something to watch on T.V.

His mom had been driving him crazy all morning, wanting to talk when he was reading, or playing with one of Seth's Gameboys. When he wanted to talk about the morning she left and to know why, she wanted to watch T.V.

Ryan didn't want to go back to his room. "How about another turn?" If he stayed away long enough, Mom might fall asleep, or pass out before he got back.

"I think you've had enough for one day, Ryan." Kathy pushed open the door to Ryan's room and guided him out of the hall.

"What fresh Hell awaits me?" Ryan muttered as he stepped into the room.

His mother wasn't in the room and Seth was standing on a chair by the T.V. His gaze briefly left the back of the set and focused on Ryan. "Yo, Ryan, you look . . . well, to be honest, you look pretty awful." His friend was fiddling with something, but Ryan couldn't see what.

"See how you feel when somebody opens you up, takes all your guts out, randomly throws them back in and staples you back together."

"Hi, Ryan." Marissa had been sitting on the couch. She stood and crossed the room. "You look pretty good after all that." She was careful when she hugged him.

"Hey, Marissa." Ryan smiled. "I didn't . . . you didn't . . . I thought . . .." He didn't use full sentences often, but he was better at it than this. Except around Marissa. Especially when her hair was pulled up to reveal her long, slim neck.

Marissa's large blue eyes reflected the smile on her face. She hardly smiled since her cotillion, which was understandable, since she was dealing with her family falling apart, the trouble her father was in and losing the life she knew. Ryan had been there, done that at the age of 10. The only major change had been his father's move to the prison in Chino, so he didn't have any of the answers she wanted to hear. He'd always known his family wasn't perfect.

Marissa's smile meant she was having a good day. He kept an arm around her slim waist, hoping she wouldn't notice.

"I couldn't visit you in ICU or the stepdown unit." Marissa turned briefly toward Seth. "Seth tried to sneak me in after school on Thursday, but a nurse caught us when we snuck out of the back stairs."

"Seth, I thought we agreed to work the plans out together. They always go wrong when we don't." Ryan laughed, then winced and grabbed his right side.

"Are you okay, Ryan?" The concern in Marissa's eyes did wonders for Ryan.

Ryan smiled, as close to a warm, fuzzy feeling as he would probably ever get. "Yeah, just a little sore."

"All right, Ryan, my job's not done until you're safely back in your bed." Kathy put a hand on his shoulder.

"Yeah, yeah, yeah," Ryan muttered under his breath. He reluctantly released Marissa's waist when Kathy turned him toward the bed.

Ryan let out a sigh of relief as he settled back on the mattress and pillows.

"Do you want me to send a nurse in with a pain shot?" Kathy asked.

"No, I'm good. Thanks."

"I'll see you tomorrow, Ryan." Kathy grinned. "We can try a trip to the cafeteria if you're off the clear diet."

"Cool. I'm there."

"Not too loud, guys. And Ryan still needs to rest."

"We're just gonna watch some T.V.," Seth said, never turning from the set

Kathy gave Ryan a thumbs up, then left.

Seth finished whatever he'd been doing to the television and hopped down from the chair. "I told you I had two surprises earlier. Marissa was surprise number one."

"Yeah, I figured that out, Seth." Ryan grinned. "So, what's surprise number two?"

Seth picked up a DVD case. "_Smallville_, Season One on DVD. You said you never got a chance to watch all of them."

"Awesome." Ryan's smile faded quickly and his brow furrowed. "Wait . . . did you bring that DVD player from your house?" He chuckled, which didn't hurt as much. "Seth, your dad's been complaining about the other stuff you brought over here. How'd you get the DVD player past him?"

"Ryan, my man, you've seen my skill at manipulating the parental units. Maybe you're into the quiet and still stuff when you're bored, but I have a tendency to bounce off the walls. My dad's seen it and it ain't pretty. So, if I'm gonna spend the afternoon and evening hanging out with somebody who can't ride his bike, or go to the pier, I've gotta be entertained." He held the DVD up in a frighteningly accurate imitation of the chicks on Price is Right.

"Seth, wasn't the DVD player your mom's idea?" Marissa asked, then laughed.

Seth turned to Marissa. "You repay my kindness by selling me out?" He shook his head. "Sad, Marissa. Really, really sad."

Ryan laughed with them, not caring about his side. "So, let's get the show on the road."

Marissa went back to the couch.

"I think there's a glare from the window." Ryan moved over in the bed and patted the empty spot he'd created. "You can sit here. If you want to, that is. Or you can sit on the couch and squint."

Marissa smiled, walked over to the bed and settled next to him.

Marissa was still Luke's girlfriend, which wasn't easy for Ryan. Luke didn't deserve her. Then again, Ryan didn't think he deserved her either. In spite of that, he, Seth and Marissa still hung out, whenever she wasn't with Luke. Sometimes it wasn't easy for Ryan, but it was better than never seeing her at all.

Seth turned the DVD player and T.V. on, then removed the first disk from the package and ceremoniously placed it in the player. "_Voila_." He settled in the chair to Ryan's right.

Ryan didn't remember Marissa ever talking about _Smallville_ and he wondered if it was a show she liked. He'd never watched it during the first two seasons, since he usually spent the prime time hours away from his house. That had changed with the Cohens. As a prequel to _Superman_, it was a must see on Wednesday nights for Seth.

At first, Ryan had watched the show with Seth, just to be polite. Now he was hooked, too. "If you don't want to watch this . . .." If Marissa got bored, she might start thinking about the bad stuff.

Marissa smiled. "Staring at Tom Welling for several hours and some of those with no shirt on? I think I can handle it."

Ryan's eyes widened. "Oh." He laughed. "So, that's how girls are, huh?" He nudged her shoulder, then slipped his left arm around her to keep her from falling off her perch on the bed.

Marissa nudged back. "Like you and Seth aren't gonna be drooling over that Lana chick," she teased. "That's how boys are."

"Her name's Kristin Kreuk and she's half Chinese and half Dutch. A very attractive combination," Seth informed.

"Why am I not surprised that you know that, Seth?" Marissa laughed. "Are you president of her fan club, or what?"

"Not this year, but maybe next year," Seth said hopefully. "You'll help me out on that, won't you, Ryan, buddy?"

"I don't join fan clubs, Seth."

"Give me time, Ryan." Seth rubbed his hands together.

Ryan leaned toward Marissa. "Seth drools. I don't," He whispered.

"Oh, yeah, Ryan, you're sooo cool." Marissa rolled her eyes.

Ryan smiled, then settled back next to Marissa. He hadn't thought to ask where his mother had gone and he hoped she wouldn't come back too soon. Today had started out bad, so hanging out with his friends and watching T.V. was a huge improvement. He would enjoy that for a while and worry about Mom later.

**3:00 p.m.**

Angry pounding sounded on the front door of the Cohen home. As Kirsten came out of her office to see who was pounding, Rosa entered the foyer from the kitchen.

"I've got it, Rosa. Thanks."

Kirsten opened the door to find an angry and flushed Dawn Atwood on the doorstep. She stepped back and motioned into the house. "Come in, Dawn."

"You sent your kid to the hospital," Dawn said angrily. She wasn't budging.

"Please, come in the house, Dawn." Kirsten motioned into the foyer. "Would you like something to eat? Or some coffee?"

Dawn reluctantly entered the house. "_I _was spending time with _my kid_ today."

"Dawn, I'm sorry. Seth usually hangs out with Ryan on Saturdays. And Ryan hasn't seen Marissa since . . . well, in almost a week. You didn't have to leave."

"Yes, I did. That's why you sent them."

"Dawn, why don't we go into the den and sit down. We should talk." Kirsten smiled as convincingly as she could. "Please."

Kirsten led Dawn into the den, motioning toward the loveseat at the end of the couch. "Can I get you a cup of coffee?"

"Seven and seven would be better." Dawn dropped to the loveseat and tossed her purse onto the table.

"Sorry, we're fresh out." Kirsten sat down on the couch. "I think you've got the wrong impression about my family's relationship with Ryan."

"You're taking him away from me. You're trying to replace me," Dawn said bitterly. "No, I got the right impression, Kirsten."

"Dawn, no one can replace you. We care about Ryan and we've made him a part of our family. That's all."

"He's already got a family. My husband, my other son and me."

"We're also Ryan's legal guardians," Kirsten said it as gently as she could.

"I didn't sign anything. I've still got rights," Dawn shouted.

Sandy came into the den. "What's all the . . .?" The ample brows furrowed. "Hello, Dawn." He crossed to the couch and sat next to his wife.

"I want Ryan back. I want him to live with me." Dawn paused. "He belongs with his mother."

Sandy leaned forward. "Unfortunately, Dawn, when you threw Ryan out after he and Trey were arrested and then left, Child Services got involved." He paused. "Custody of Ryan was transferred to them, and then to us."

"How can they do that? I didn't say they could do that." Dawn's voice rose again. "I wasn't even there." Her eyes narrowed. "What are you doing with my kid? 'Cause you never told me any of this before."

"Child Services got involved before we found you." Sandy knew he had to tread carefully. "When you left the second time, Kirsten and I decided that it would be best for Ryan to stay with us. We're just acting in your son's best interests." He paused, trying to pick a spot that wouldn't blow up in his face. Or Ryan's. "Dawn, we want you to have a relationship with Ryan. We know that Ryan _needs_ a relationship with you. But he also needs to live in an environment that's stable." Sandy paused. "He's doing well in school. He has friends here. He has a job here. All in all, I think he's pretty happy. Here, he's got endless possibilities for his future." He shrugged. "That's better than what he had when I first met him."

"That was Ryan's fault for listening to his brother." Dawn crossed her legs, kicking her foot up and down. "They're both just like their father. Worthless."

"'Listening to his brother' are the operative words here, Dawn." Sandy's tone bordered on preachy, but Kirsten knew he couldn't help himself. They both knew that Ryan would never have been in trouble if he'd hung out with someone other than his older brother that night. "It wasn't Ryan's idea to steal that car. That was all Trey."

Dawn glared at him. Kirsten gave herself yet another mental kick for believing that Dawn's abandonment of Ryan had been a selfless act. Then she felt guilty for judging someone whose life had been so difficult. Had Dawn forgotten her reasons for leaving Ryan the morning after Casino Night? Dawn's anger and irrational behavior were probably alcohol induced. Maybe a gentle reminder would help Ryan's mother get her perspective back.

"Dawn, do you remember what you said the morning you left?" Kirsten asked quietly. "You said Ryan deserved a real mother. I'm only trying to do what you asked of me."

"_I'm_ Ryan's mother." Dawn stood, picked up her purse and threw it onto her shoulder. "NOT! YOU!" She stormed out of the den. "He's mine! You can't have him!"

Kirsten stood and followed Dawn. The front door slammed before she could reach it.

Sandy put a hand on Kirsten's shoulder as she reached for the doorknob. "Let her go. Give her some time to cool off."

Kirsten shook her head. "I don't know, Sandy. She's drinking again. She's not rational."

Sandy kissed Kirsten's forehead. "Seth and Marissa are at the hospital. There's nothing Dawn can do."

"I don't like that woman." Rosa's accent was barely noticeable, unless she was around Kirsten's Nupsie ladies. Then she laid it on thick and heavy. Especially with Julie Cooper, who ate it up with a spoon.

Kirsten turned to see Rosa standing behind them in the doorway to the kitchen.

"How that woman could have a sweet boy like Ryan, I'll never know." Rosa shivered, then turned and went back into the kitchen.

"We should've gone after her, Sandy." Kirsten wrapped her arms around herself. "She was so angry."

"The State's taken her son from her without due process." Sandy shrugged. "Once she cools down, she'll realize that it's for the best."

Kirsten nodded, but she couldn't ignore the feeling of dread. That would only go away when she saw Ryan, safe and sound.

"If you wanna blow off this thing tonight . . .." Sandy's new firm was throwing a retirement party for one of the founding partners. "If they don't understand, I'll go back to the P.D.'s office. If they'll take me."

"You never should've left," Kirsten muttered, then sighed. "No, we'll make a cameo appearance, then get to the hospital."

Sandy hugged her. "I'm still on the appointment list here and in San Bernardino and L.A. Counties. I'm not giving up on my causes." He kissed the top of her head. "I'm finally gonna have some help and resources. You'll see."

Kirsten hugged Sandy back. "I hope so," she said quietly. Then pulled back. "Should we call Ryan? To let him know?"

Sandy shook his head. "Let him enjoy the day hanging out with Marissa and Seth."

"Yeah, he deserves that."

"Shouldn't you start getting ready? We've gotta leave here by 6:30."

"You're funny. NOT." Kirsten playfully swatted his arm.

"Well, Rosa will be leaving soon. And the boys are gone. Wanna fool around, Mrs. Cohen?" Sandy waggled his brows.

Kirsten grinned. "That's the best offer I've had all day."

**6:45 p.m.**

Seth was trying to forward the DVD to the beginning of the next _Smallville _episode, but he kept getting the main program screen.

"I told you to just let the credits play, Seth." Ryan held his hand out. "Give me the remote." He flashed a long-suffering look at Marissa. "He always does this."

"Hush, let the Master work in peace." Seth was determined to finish what he'd started.

The third episode, which they'd just finished watching, came on the screen.

"Been there, done that." Ryan leaned over, but Seth and the remote were just out of reach. "Gimme, Seth."

The program screen came back. "I've got it."

"I vote for Ryan to try," Marissa chimed in, laughing.

Ryan nudged Marissa. "Go take it away from him." He grinned.

"I don't know, Ryan." Marissa giggled. "I think he's been working out."

Ryan winked. "You can take him." He egged her on. "Just sneak into his blind spot, say 'Hi, Summer' and then grab the remote."

Marissa eased off the bed and was sneaking around the end of it when the door of the room slammed against the wall. She froze, following Seth's gaze toward the noise.

Seth stood, still clutching the remote. "Hi, Mrs. Atwood. Have you met Marissa? Oh, no, you didn't. Marissa, this is Ryan's mom. Ryan's mom, Marissa."

A chill passed from the top of Ryan's head down to his chest as his mother ignored Seth and threw open the door of the bathroom, then the closet.

"Ms. Perfect Mom didn' bring clothes for you?" Mom slammed the closet door and disappeared into the bathroom. "No monogrammed towels? No little soaps?"

"Marissa, go get a nurse," Seth ordered. "And the biggest, meanest orderly you can find."

Marissa hurried past the open bathroom door and out of the room.

"Out of that bed, Ryan. We're leaving." Mom came out of the bathroom. She'd been drinking. A lot.

"Seth, get out of here, too." Ryan's heart was about to burst through his chest.

"Mrs. Atwood, I don't think that's a good idea. Ryan's supposed to stay in the hospital for at least three more days." Seth trying to reason with Mom when she was like this was as useless as trying to reason with Luke's friends. Mom might even hang Seth upside down. Or worse.

"Go, Seth!" Shouting hurt, but Ryan had to get Seth out of his mother's way.

Mom shoved past Seth, knocking him into the chair, which slid back a foot. The next thing Ryan knew, he was standing on the floor and his mother was pulling the I.V. from his left hand.

"Stop it, Mom! What are you doing?" Ryan twisted and pulled away falling hard on his right side. He felt something deep tear, but there was no pain. Mom grabbed him again, pulling him up. "Why are you doing this!"

"You're my kid. Not theirs. MINE."

"Why did you . . . leave me?" Ryan screamed the question he'd never asked because he feared the answer. He heard someone wheezing, then realized it was from him. His vision grayed and he blinked. "You . . . just . . . left . . . me. WHY?" His mother was staring back at him and then she was gone.

Ryan's knees buckled, but someone caught him before he hit the floor again. The hands lowered him to sit on the floor.

"I'm right here, Ryan. You're okay. She's gone." Seth's voice was close. Too close.

"Don't." Ryan pulled away, hitting his head on the bed.

"Ryan!" Marissa's voice.

"Ryan, it's Diana. Remember me?"

"Leave me . . . alone," Ryan mumbled. He didn't want to face _anyone_ after that scene. Not even himself.

"Sorry, can't do that." Diana was careful as she lifted him to his feet. Not like Mom.

Ryan could feel Marissa and Seth looking at him. He blinked and tried to focus on the nurse. "Tell them . . . to go." He turned his head toward the window.

"Page Dr. Jenkins." Ryan couldn't see who Diana was talking to.

Ryan closed his eyes. If he couldn't see them, they couldn't see him. Yeah, that always worked. A metallic smell assaulted his nose. He flinched and reached for the mask.

Diana was gentle when she grabbed his wrist. "It's just oxygen, Ryan." She set his arm on the bed and patted it. She put something against his chest. "Well, there goes your gold star for the perfect heart rate."

Ryan opened his eyes. His left hand was bleeding. How did that happen? He lifted it, watching the blood drip onto the blankets. Someone pulled his hand away and started wrapping it.

Mom was gone. Ryan pulled the mask away and tried to sit up. "Where's my mom?"

"Your brother and his friend are trying to call her." Diana wouldn't let him sit up.

"No, they're not real . . . she just . . . she needs me . . . never shoulda left."

Diana took the mask from Ryan's hand and put it back on his face. "Don't worry about that, now, Ryan." She stroked his hair. Even Diana was gentler than Mom. "Right now, you need to concentrate on breathing and getting some rest."

Ryan closed his eyes and his mother's angry face followed him into the darkness.

**7:40 p.m.**

Sandy and Kirsten rushed off the elevator before the doors had fully opened. Seth had reached them on Kirsten's cell phone while they were at Sandy's office party. The boy had been upset and all they knew was that Ryan's mother had been to the hospital and something bad had happened.

Kirsten gasped when she saw Seth and Marissa in the waiting room down the hall from Ryan's room. Both teenagers looked shell-shocked. She and Sandy hadn't warned Ryan, or the hospital. She would deal with the guilt later.

"Oh, kids." Kirsten didn't know whether to cry, or to find Dawn Atwood and strangle her. "My God, are you both okay?"

Seth stood and stumbled toward her. "Mom . . .." He wrapped his arms around Kirsten and sobbed.

"It's okay, baby. Mom's here now." Kirsten rubbed her son's back. "You're okay, Sweetie. You're safe."

Several minutes passed and Kirsten focused on her son. When she could bear to tear her attention away, she found Sandy comforting Marissa.

Kirsten would start plotting a long and painful death for Dawn as soon as she knew the children were okay. She was married to a great criminal defense attorney and she didn't doubt a jury would find her actions to be justifiable.

Seth stopped shaking and sighed against her shoulder. Kirsten kissed the top of his head. "Better now?"

Seth shuddered, then nodded. "I think so."

Without letting go of Seth, Kirsten reached for Marissa. "You're okay, too, Marissa. We won't let anything happen to you."

"Let's sit down," Sandy said quietly.

Seth patted Kirsten's arm, then pulled away, leaving his mother free to soothe Marissa, who was still distraught. Kirsten smiled proudly at her son as he hugged his father, then sat close to him in the chairs across the narrow aisle.

"Thanks, Mr. and Mrs. Cohen." Marissa wiped her eyes and looked down at the floor.

"What about Ryan?" Kirsten asked.

"Dr. Jenkins went in a few minutes ago." Seth stopped suddenly, on the verge of tears again.

"Ryan didn't want us in his room," Marissa added.

"Can you tell us what happened?" Sandy put an arm around Seth's shoulders. "If you can't, we'll find out what we can from the nurses."

Seth rubbed his face. "His mom just showed up. We were watching _Smallville_. She wanted to take Ryan away with her." He shook his head and swallowed. "It happened so fast . . .."

Kirsten glanced at Sandy, whose expression mirrored her guilty one. "Dawn was at the house this afternoon. I'm so sorry, guys. We should've called."

Seth's reaction wasn't the one Kirsten expected. He had a right to be angry, since it was her job to protect him and she'd failed miserably. Instead of anger, or accusation, he was forgiving. "You had no idea she was gonna . . .." A bewildered shake of his head. "I mean, I was there and I can't believe she did it."

Kirsten sobbed and reached for her son, who stood and fell into the chair next to her. She put an arm around each child. "She didn't hurt either of you, did she?"

Marissa shook her head.

"Just Ryan," Seth whispered.

Dr. Jenkins walked into the waiting room and sat in the chair next to Sandy. The dark curls were loose and flying every which way.

Seth raised his head. "Is Ryan okay?"

"Physically, he seems to be unscathed. We'll keep a close eye on him." Dr. Jenkins smiled at Seth. "As I understand it, he has you two to thank for that."

Kirsten raised an eyebrow at her son.

"I sent Marissa for help, then tried to distract Ryan's . . . _her_." Seth shivered. "Ryan told me to leave, but . . .." He shrugged. "It didn't work anyway."

"Nonsense," Dr. Jenkins said emphatically. "The staff stopped the woman before she could take Ryan out of the hospital."

"You did good, Seth. And you, too, Marissa." Sandy's pride in his son was evident.

Marissa sniffled. "I ran away."

"He who fights and runs away, lives to fight another day." Sandy winked at the girl, who managed a wan smile. "Ah, you can still smile."

Kirsten kissed Seth's temple. "You're a good kid, Seth." She turned to Marissa, kissed her temple and squeezed her shoulders. "And you're a good kid, Marissa."

The doctor nodded silently toward Seth and Marissa, but Kirsten wasn't quite sure what she meant. Sandy seemed to understand, because he stood and reached into his pocket, pulling out several bills. "It's been a rough night for you guys. Why don't you go down to the cafeteria and get something to eat? Something chocolate would probably do the trick." He handed the bills to Seth. "I'll meet you downstairs, okay?"

"I want to tell Ryan good night." Marissa was visibly struggling to keep control and Kirsten's heart ached for the girl.

Kirsten stood. "I think Ryan might need a little time, Sweetie. I'm sure he'll be fine tomorrow."

Seth put an arm around Marissa. "That's grownup-speak, Marissa. The doctor wants to talk to my mom and dad without little pitchers and big ears listening in." He squeezed the girl's shoulder. "My dad tries to be subtle. My mom says 'private conversation, Seth' but it's the same result. C'mon, it'll be like our first date."

"In your dreams, Cohen." Marissa threw Seth's arm off her shoulder, then walked ahead of him.

"I'm afraid to ask who runs your household." Dr. Jenkins' green eyes twinkled.

"My wife. We sometimes let our son think he does, but we're indulgent, not stupid." There was a twinkle in Sandy's blue eyes as he sat next to Kirsten and put an arm around her shoulders.

"You're both far braver than I, taking on two teenagers. When my son was that age, I wanted to bury him in the back garden. Preferably next to his father."

Kirsten smiled proudly. "Seth and Ryan aren't that bad." She paused. "Well, there was an unauthorized trip to Tijuana, but . . . things didn't go well and both of them were suffering enough without our help." She took Sandy's hand.

Dr. Jenkins leaned toward Kirsten. "Now that the children are gone, I suppose we should get back to the subject at hand." She paused. "Physically, Ryan appears to be relatively unscathed. He took a couple of stitches in his hand, but his incision appears to be intact and there's no evidence of any internal injuries. The next 12 to 24 hours, we'll watch him for signs of internal bleeding, since that doesn't always present immediately." She blew a curl away from her face. "Ryan will need a second surgery if there's been any damage."

"So, this is a set-back?" Sandy blew out a breath.

"When I get my hands on that woman," Kirsten muttered. "I'll need a good lawyer."

"Can't do it. I'll be an accomplice."

"You needn't worry about Mrs. Atwood. She's been arrested."

"What?" Sandy let go of Kirsten. "Doctor, you _can't_ do that to Ryan."

"Sandy, she deserves it! If she spends a few days in jail, it's not enough." Kirsten couldn't believe that Sandy was anything but happy that Ryan's mother would suffer the consequences of her actions for a change.

"We didn't have a choice, Mr. Cohen. Granted, the staff had no idea she was Ryan's natural mother until the police arrived and your son identified her," Dr. Jenkins explained. "What she did was child abuse and we're legally bound to report it to the authorities." She paused. "Had she not been Ryan's mother, her actions were an assault."

"I'm a lawyer, I know that." Sandy ran a hand through his hair. He took a deep breath and slowly blew it out. "Dr. Jenkins, Ryan's family relationships are a gigantic emotional minefield. His mother's not gonna get hurt, or take the blame for this. She'll blame Ryan. And he'll blame himself."

"I'm afraid that what his mother did to him tonight has already had that effect." Dr. Jenkins shook her head. "My psychological rotation was more years ago than I care to remember, but even I can recognize the emotional affect this has had. Ryan seems to have . . . pulled into himself. He was barely responsive, which makes it that much more difficult to evaluate him."

Sandy frowned. "Catatonic?"

"I suspect that it's more a refusal to respond, than an inability." The doctor was trying to conceal a smile. "He put on quite a show when he realized one of the orderlies was staying with him. I'm afraid the DVD player your son brought in had a bit of an accident with the tray from Ryan's bed. Perhaps someone can mend it, although I wouldn't count on it." A snicker escaped and she coughed in a vain attempt to hide it. "Frankly, I was surprised Ryan had the strength to kick the tray all the way across the room."

"DVD player?" Sandy glared at Kirsten.

"I'll explain later. But it's not Seth's fault," Kirsten said quickly, patting Sandy's arm.

"Oh, I'd suggest that both of you plead the Fifth."

Kirsten swatted Sandy's arm. "Doctor, you don't think Ryan might . . . would . . . hurt himself." Just the thought made Kirsten shiver. They'd been through that with Marissa at the end of the summer.

"That's the trouble with teenagers sometimes. I'd feel better if Ryan were angry with his mother, or openly frightened, or even hysterical. I could order something to calm him and take the edge off and he would have time to deal with it." Dr. Jenkins sighed. "Aside from the outburst, there's nothing." The lock of hair snaked back toward her eye and she blew it away again.

"Ryan's home life was . . . he still keeps things very close," Kirsten said helplessly.

Dr. Jenkins smiled. "He's a very, very lucky boy." She stood and patted Kirsten's arm, then kept her hand there. "I'm hesitant to subject Ryan to any diagnostic testing at the moment. But we'll be watching him closely and, if necessary, perhaps a mild sedative can get him through it. Being with family would be best, though." She smiled reassuringly. "Go in whenever you're ready. I'm on call and I'll check in when I can."

Kirsten squeezed the doctor's hand. "Thank you." Her tone didn't seem grateful enough. She turned to Sandy. "Call Rosa and ask her to stay at the house tonight. Then call Jimmy and let him know that Marissa is staying there, too. I don't want her going home tonight. Jimmy's . . . she'll need somebody who can . . . support her. Jimmy can't do it and Julie won't."

Sandy nodded. "I'll come back once Rosa and the kids are settled in."

Kirsten shook her head. "I think I need to go this alone. Even things with your mother were never this bad."

"Yeah, but I can give him the hope that things with his mother will get better if he just sticks it out."

"And I'm of the mind that he should cut his losses now." Kirsten sighed. "I'm sorry. I just cannot understand a woman who would hurt her own child like this, Sandy."

"She drinks, Kirsten. She's been abused herself."

"Stop it, Sandy," Kirsten said sharply. "That doesn't give her the right to hurt her son." Kirsten shuddered. "My God, why didn't someone stop this years ago? How many teachers and doctors looked the other way while Ryan's mother and her boyfriends abused him? He never should've been left with that woman."

Sandy hugged her. "I know, babe. I know." He paused. "Are you sure you're up to this?"

Kirsten nodded. "Go. Take Seth and Marissa home and take care of them for me?" She squeezed Sandy one last time, then pulled away and turned toward Ryan's room.

When Kirsten opened the door, a burly Samoan orderly unfolded himself from the couch across from the bed. The chair was still in one piece, so it was obvious he hadn't used it.

Kirsten swallowed and looked up as the man ambled toward her. "I'm Kirsten Cohen." She realized too late that he wouldn't know her name. "Dr. Jenkins said it was okay for me to come in. I'm Ryan's guardian."

The large man smiled. "Yeah, she said you was gonna come." He turned to Ryan, who lay on his left side, with his back to them. "You hang tight, little bruddah. I'll catch you on the downside."

"Surfer, right?" Kirsten was pretty sure downside had something to do with waves and surfing. She'd have to ask Sandy later.

Laughter boomed from the orderly and shook the room. "You a sweet lady, but there ain't a board big enough to hold me." He grinned. "But I float real gooood." He turned back to Ryan. "You better be nice to this lady, little bruddah. She a keeper."

Kirsten felt the floor shift as the Samoan passed her for the door. "Thanks." She smiled as the man bent under the frame and ambled from the room, pulling the door closed behind him. She realized after he'd gone that she hadn't gotten the man's name. Then again, there couldn't be many Samoans that large working in the hospital. Or in Newport Beach, for that matter.

Kirsten crossed to the couch and sat.

Ryan's eyes opened. The blankness in those expressive blue eyes scared her. And cut her to the bone. "Get out." His voice was hoarse and as flat as his eyes.

Kirsten crossed her arms. "No way. No how."

"GO. AWAY." Ryan's voice was rough and scratchy.

"No, Ryan. No way. No how." Kirsten crossed her legs. "I know you don't want to talk. And I suspect you're not in the mood to listen either. But if you think I'm going to leave you alone, you're sadly mistaken, young man."

Ryan closed his eyes. It wasn't the reaction Kirsten wanted, but it was better than the angry outburst Dr. Jenkins had described. Or whatever had led to Ryan practically losing his voice.

Kirsten would just have to wait him out.

The door opened and a nurse came in. "It's just Diana, Ryan." She came around to the left side of the bed and dropped the rail.

"Get . . . away." Ryan took an ineffective swing at the woman, which shocked Kirsten more than anything else.

Kirsten had suspected that Ryan had a temper because of his history of fighting. As she'd gotten to know him, though, she'd thought it had more to do with his home life and the fact that he didn't know how to back down from a fight. The few times he'd seemed angry about anything at home, he'd struck her as the slow burn type. She'd never seen him explode about anything.

"Now, Ryan. You've got to put your shoulder into it." Diana's voice was even and slightly amused. "And right now, I think you probably have about as much strength as a newborn kitten." She crossed her arms. "If you want to try to break something else, be my guest. But I'll still be here when you tire yourself out. I've got a job to do."

Ryan closed his eyes and turned his head into the pillow.

"I'm going to take your temperature," Diana warned before placing the thermometer in Ryan's ear. When that was done, she slipped the device into her pocket. "I'm going to take your pulse in your left wrist."

Ryan's arm twitched, but Diana's estimate of his strength appeared accurate. He couldn't pull it way from the nurse, no matter how much he wanted to.

"All right, Ryan. We're done for now." Diana lifted the rail and turned to Kirsten. "Call the desk if you need anything."

Kirsten nodded. "Thanks." She needed the Ryan she knew back. And she was very afraid that Ryan was gone forever.


	6. Chapter 6

See Parts 1 and 4 for Disclaimers

"It's a Mom Thing"

by Lisa O'Brien

Copyright September, 2003

**CHAPTER SIX**

**Sunday, October 5**

**2:55 a.m.**

Kirsten had remained in her place on the couch, neither moving, nor speaking, until Ryan fell asleep some time around 9:00. She hated the fact that she couldn't comfort him, but she couldn't blame him for not wanting to be touched, or have anyone near him. After his uncharacteristic display of anger with Diana, she'd realized that trying to get near him would only provoke a similar outburst and make things worse.

The big Samoan, whose name was Micah - not Tiny, or Slim as Kirsten had expected - had stopped by when his shift ended at midnight to check on "little bruddah" and "the sweet lady." He'd also taken the rap for the DVD player because he hadn't been fast enough to stop Ryan when he kicked the tray and sent it across the room. Micah was as surprised "little bruddah" could do that much damage as Dr. Jenkins had been. Kirsten refused his offer to replace the machine. It was a belonging and not important.

When she was alone with Ryan, Kirsten tried to read, but found it impossible to concentrate. She tried to sleep, but her brain was in high gear. Dawn had referred to Ryan as hers. That had clearly meant Dawn thought of her son as a possession, not a person.

Like a puzzle, that piece made the picture start to form. It had bothered Kirsten that Ryan seemed to accept being sent away when she and Sandy first contacted Child Services. His acceptance had seemed too easy, especially given the fact that both Sandy and Seth were against it.

Another section formed. Ryan never tried to change Kirsten's mind about him. It had been a month before Kirsten found out that the fight at Holly's party that she'd blamed on Ryan started because Luke and his friends were picking on Seth. Ryan had been outnumbered and could've walked away, but he'd waded in to rescue Seth.

The canvas that evolved was clear now. Ryan's background made him believe that he wasn't important to anyone. He was just Dawn's son. Or Trey's brother. Or A.J.'s punching bag.

Kirsten's mental shins were black and blue from the kicks she'd given herself over the course of the night. She'd never understood why Ryan accepted things without protest, or complaint. It wasn't that he didn't want to cause trouble. Nothing had ever changed in the world he used to live in.

Ryan never seemed to recognize the effect he had on other people, either because of his appearance, or his personality. It wasn't limited to her family. These days, Marissa hardly talked or smiled unless Ryan was around. Even at his crankiest in the stepdown unit, the nurses and aides obviously adored him. Anna had specifically requested him on her subsequent shifts. Even an orderly who'd seen Ryan at his absolute worst was drawn to him.

Kirsten looked over at the sleeping boy. "Maybe Micah can talk some sense into you, little bruddah. Because if you haven't figured it out by now, I'm doing something wrong."

Ryan moaned and turned onto his back. "Don't." He moaned again and drew his hands up. "Please . . . NO!" His eyes flew open and he sat up. His chest heaved and he dropped his face into his hands.

Kirsten forgot about respecting Ryan's personal space. She was off the couch and at the bed in one stride. She dropped the rail and sat on the bed, facing Ryan. She stroked his hair.

"Don't." Ryan pulled away from her.

"I'm sorry, Ryan," Kirsten whispered. Her eyes burned and she felt a tear scald her cheek. "I thought . . ." She covered her mouth and choked down a sob. "I don't know what to do."

"Please . . . don't cry . . . Kirsten." Ryan's voice was barely above a whisper. "I'm . . . sorry . . . didn't mean -"

"I'm not crying because of what you did, Ryan." Kirsten wiped a tear from Ryan's cheek with her thumb. "I'm crying because I'm worried about you."

"You don't . . . have to."

Kirsten smiled. "That ship has sailed, my friend. I love you, Ryan. You can love me back, or be indifferent, or not love me. That's not gonna change how I feel." She brushed the hair from Ryan's forehead. "I suspect that Sandy and Seth feel the same way, but they're too macho to admit it."

Ryan stared at her, his eyes still blank. He shook his head silently. "I'm . . .." His voice faltered. The blue eyes came back to life, welling with the tears of a grieving boy who had been hurt by the one person who was supposed to love him more than life itself.

Kirsten stood, gently moved Ryan over then stretched out next to him on the bed. She put an arm around Ryan and he turned toward her, resting his head against her shoulder. This time, his sobs were audible. Kirsten put her arms around him and cried with him.

"You're safe now, Ryan. I promise I will NEVER let anyone hurt you. EVER. AGAIN." Kirsten kissed his temple. "That's one of those very, very important promises we talked about. Do you remember?"

Kirsten felt Ryan nod against her shoulder.

"Why . . . did she . . . hurt me?"

"I don't know, baby." Kirsten's voice broke. She rocked him gently, comforting herself as much as she was trying to comfort Ryan. "That doesn't matter right now. She doesn't matter." She kissed his temple. "At this moment, you're the only one in this room who matters."

"I really . . . want to . . . believe . . .." Ryan coughed and his hand went to his side.

"You'd better believe it, Ryan James Atwood. You're a part of my family. In and of itself, that makes you very important."

"How?"

Kirsten laughed. "Because I'm Caleb Nichols' daughter and I say so."

Ryan coughed again. "Okay."

Kirsten stroked Ryan's hair. "And because there's nobody else like you in the world, Ryan. You brought my family together and I'll bet you didn't even know it. You got my son out of his room and away from that Playstation. You gave my husband a chance to pay an old debt forward by helping you the way someone helped him. And you defend me when Sandy and Seth tease me."

"I could . . . teach you . . . to cook."

"And you obviously have the patience of a saint."

"I caused . . . trouble . . .."

"Sweetie, Jimmy was in trouble long before you came along. And Luke and Marissa . . . let's just say Luke's possessiveness is the result of a guilty conscience."

"Yeah . . . I know."

Kirsten frowned. "Oh, that's right."

"Thank you." The voice was so soft, Kirsten almost didn't hear.

"You're welcome, baby." Kirsten kissed the top of his head. "We'll get through this, Ryan. I promise."

"Very . . . important," Ryan mumbled.

"Damn straight." Ryan's eyes were closed. She watched as his breathing evened out, then deepened. Finally understanding Ryan had helped her understand something about herself. Even though she hadn't carried him for nine months, or gotten the joy of watching him grow, she loved Ryan as much as she loved her own son. Without realizing how much she'd longed for it, she'd gotten the second child she and Sandy had never been able to have.

Sandy's do-good notions aside, Dawn Atwood would _not_ be a part of Ryan's life. Kirsten had failed to protect Ryan once. That would never happen again.

**10:00 a.m.**

Sandy pulled up in front of the apartment building, where Marissa lived with her father. It had been a long night for the four of them. They camped out in the den, but no one slept because they were all waiting for the phone to ring. Kirsten had finally gotten the chance to call early this morning to let them know that Ryan was better. Without a basis for comparison, Sandy wasn't sure whether the news was good or bad.

"Do you want me to go upstairs with you? Maybe I can get him to change his mind and let you come to the hospital," Seth offered.

"That's okay, Seth." Marissa smiled wanly. "Thanks. He's not too pleased about me staying out all night, even if I was at your house with your dad and Rosa." She got out of the car, then leaned back in. "Tell Ryan, I'll try to get over to the hospital tonight."

Seth nodded.

"Call us if you need anything, Marissa." Sandy watched her walk to the doors and disappear inside. He pulled away from the curb.

Seth's gaze remained out the window.

"How're you doing, Seth?"

The boy shrugged. "Okay, I guess."

"You know, Ryan didn't want anybody near him last night. Not even your mother. It wasn't you."

"Yeah, thanks, Dad. I was trying to live in Denial. You just ruined it." Seth reached forward and turned on the radio.

Sandy switched the radio off. "De Nile's a river in Egypt." He briefly glanced from the road to his son. "Come on, son, talk to me."

"I don't know what to say. I don't know what to think. Or what to feel." Seth's gaze remained fixed on the scenery passing by the car. "I want it all to be a nightmare, but it's not. It's real. Too real."

"You and me, both." Sandy sighed.

"At least that bitch is locked up."

Sandy opened his mouth to scold Seth. He closed it. The boy wasn't afraid of either of his parents. For which Sandy was grateful. He knew that Kirsten and Seth resented his stand on Dawn's arrest. They didn't understand that his sympathy wasn't for Dawn, it was for Ryan. No matter what the woman did to him, Sandy knew the boy wouldn't be able to handle his mother being arrested. His father and brother were already serving long prison terms.

"Are you gonna tell Ryan? About . . . _her_?"

"Your mom and I haven't discussed that, yet."

"You need to tell him."

"We'll see how Ryan's doing when we get there," Sandy promised.

"He'll wanna know. God knows why."

"Do you wanna hang out in the cafeteria while I go up and your mom and I talk to him?" Sandy pulled into the parking lot at HOAG. He realized that for the first time since Tuesday, he was dreading this visit with Ryan. He didn't think the kid could take much more. And he didn't know how much more he, Seth and Kirsten could take.

Seth shook his head. "I was there. He probably won't believe me," he said miserably.

"He's your friend, Seth. Of course, he'll believe you."

Sandy found a spot and pulled into it. He reached over and gently cupped the back of Seth's neck. "We'll get through this."

"It's the next one I'm worried about." Seth got out of the car, waiting for his father to get out. He crossed his arms as they walked into the hospital.

Seth hesitated at the door of Ryan's room. Father and son were fighting the same emotional battle. Seth had the added unpleasant memory of the last time he'd been in Ryan's room. He had not only witnessed a mother hurting her own child for the first time in his life, but had then been rejected by his friend.

"Go on down to the cafeteria. I'll come get you." Sandy squeezed the boy's shoulder.

Seth took a deep breath, held it, then let it out. "I've gotta do this."

Sandy nodded and opened the door. Kirsten turned in the chair. She and Ryan were both pale. Too pale.

"Hey, Sandy," Ryan said quietly. "Sorry about your party."

Sandy waved a hand in dismissal. "Family is way more important, Ryan." He squeezed Ryan's shoulder. "How're you doin'?"

Ryan let out a shuddering breath, then waggled his hand.

Kirsten stood, hugged Sandy, then her son. "Ryan just needs to rest."

"So do you," Ryan commented. "And, do you think you're a little overdressed?" He pointed to Kirsten's red dress.

"This old thing?" Kirsten laughed.

Ryan's gaze focused on Seth. "Seth, man, I'm sorry. I freaked out." Another shuddering breath. "I didn't mean . . .."

"Hey, no, no. It's okay, Ryan." Seth put his hands on his chest. "I freaked out, too." He smiled. "We're cool."

"You sure?" Ryan wasn't used to being forgiven.

"Totally." Seth touched his knuckles to Ryan's. "We're 5 x 5, dude." He leaned forward and hugged his friend.

The hint of a smile crept onto Ryan's face and he closed his eyes. "Thanks, Seth," he whispered.

After a minute, Seth straightened and tilted his head toward Ryan. Kirsten frowned, then shook her head. Sandy put a hand on Kirsten's shoulder.

"Seth wants you to tell me something, Kirsten." Ryan frowned. "Is my mom okay? Did something happen?"

"Thanks, Seth." Kirsten sat down on the bed. "You hadn't asked . . . I was hoping you could get a little more rest today."

Ryan's face was blank. "So, now I asked."

"Ryan, your mother was arrested last night." Kirsten put a hand on his shoulder.

"You had her arrested?" Ryan leaned back and blinked up at the ceiling. "I can't believe this."

"Ryan, Mom and Dad had nothing to do with it. The hospital called the police. They came before Mom and Dad even got here." Seth sat next to his mother and put a hand on Ryan's leg. "Please, you've gotta believe me. Mom and Dad didn't do anything."

Ryan's gaze remained fixed on the ceiling for several minutes. When he finally lowered his head, he focused on Sandy. "Get her out. Make 'em drop the charges." His voice broke. "She gets mad when she drinks. Does stupid stuff. She doesn't mean it."

"Can we have a minute?" Sandy nodded his head toward the door. "Kirsten, I brought you some clothes. Why don't you go change?" He squeezed Seth's shoulder, then handed the boy his key ring. "They're in the trunk."

"We'll be right back." Kirsten stood and kissed Ryan's cheek.

Ryan nodded, focusing again on the ceiling of the room.

**10:45 a.m.**

Sandy waited for Seth and Kirsten to close the door, then sat on the bed. "I know this is hard for you, Ryan. And I don't wanna see your mother in jail because of that." He paused. "But what she did to you -"

"Kirsten and I already talked about this." Ryan leaned back and crossed his arms. He focused on the tiles above his head. "I know what she did was wrong. I should hate her, but I can't. She's always gonna be my mom. I can't leave her in some cell like my dad and Trey."

"What if your mother could get some help?"

Ryan lifted his head. "What kind of help?" He tilted his head and his blue eyes narrowed. "Like AA? NA?"

"Or counseling. This could be her rock bottom."

Ryan frowned. "She's hit that about 5 times since I can remember." He shrugged. "It doesn't work for her."

"This doesn't work for you, man."

Ryan sighed. "Yeah, I know."

"Look, I gotta be honest with you. If it weren't for your feelings, I'd be happy to see your mother under the jail, with the key twenty miles down encased in cement."

"If I asked you, would you represent her?"

"No. Ryan, you're part of my family, now. That's a huge, huge conflict of interest." Sandy shook his head. "I couldn't put aside my personal bias."

"But you could find somebody?"

Sandy nodded. "As long as getting your mother some help is part of the deal."

"Thanks."

"C'mere, kid." Sandy carefully pulled Ryan into a hug. "Whatever happens, Ryan, you're stuck with us. You know that, don't you?"

"Pretty much," Ryan muttered. "It could be worse."

Sandy kissed the top of Ryan's head. "That weirds Seth out, but too bad."

Ryan leaned back. "Weirds me out, too." He grinned.

"I do the whole dad thing flyin' by the seat of my pants." Sandy winked. "I didn't have an example."

"Yeah, I remember you tellin' me that." A half-smile lit the boy's pale face. "You do pretty well."

The door opened and Kathy came in, followed by Seth and Kirsten.

"Morning, Ryan. Ready for your walk?"

Sandy stood.

"Ah, yeah. Could we just stick with 20 feet today? I'm kinda tired."

"If you don't feel up to it now, I can come back later."

Slowly, Ryan sat up and threw the sheet and blanket off. "Let's get it over with." Kirsten handed him a robe, then helped him put it over his right arm when he struggled with it. He turned and put his legs over the side of the bed.

"All right, slow and easy." Kathy put an arm around Ryan to help him down from the bed.

"Wait . . .." Ryan swayed, then his eyes rolled back and his knees buckled.

"Sandy!" Kirsten reached out from the opposite side of the bed.

Sandy leaned forward and caught Ryan. Together, he and Kathy lifted Ryan onto the mattress. Kathy hit the call button, then lowered the head of the bed.

"Yes?"

"Can you send Jewel in? Her patient just went out on me." Kathy turned to Sandy. "Who's his treating physician?"

"Jenkins."

"You might want to page Jenkins while you're at it."

A tall, auburn haired nurse rushed into the room. Ryan stirred as she lifted his wrist. "It's okay, Ryan. I'm just taking your pulse."

"'M okay." Ryan blinked. "Little dizzy."

Kirsten put an arm around Seth and kissed his temple.

Jewel wrapped a BP cuff around Ryan's left arm. "Have you been feeling dizzy all morning, Ryan?"

"'M really tired. Tha's all."

Jewel inflated the cuff, placed the stethoscope on the inside of Ryan's elbow, then slowly released the air. "BP's okay." She removed the cuff, noted the pulse and BP readings on the chart and took a thermometer from her pocket. "I'm gonna take your temp now, Ryan."

Ryan jumped when the thermometer touched his ear. "Sorry," he mumbled.

"Temp's normal." Jewel put the back of her hand against Ryan's forehead. "You're a little cool, actually." She patted his shoulder. "Dr. Jenkins is on her way up."

"Can I sit up, now?" Ryan's voice sounded stronger and the words were clear.

"Once I finish my examination, Ryan," Dr. Jenkins answered as she entered the room. "It's good to see you this morning, young man." She smiled as she reached the side of the bed.

"Yeah, ah, . . . sorry?" Ryan was too pale to blush.

"It's quite all right. We all have our bad days." Dr. Jenkins winked. "Although, I can't say the same for your Dad. Or your DVD player."

"Oh, yeah, Seth, about the DVD player." Sandy glared at his son. The one with dark hair, who'd brought a DVD player to the hospital.

"Mom?"

"Sandy, not now."

"Oh, dear, I seem to have started a family row." The doctor winked at Ryan again.

"Ah, yeah, and I'm gonna end up in the middle of it."

Dr. Jenkins chuckled. "Oh, sorry. Now, what happened here?"

"I stood up, got dizzy, went boom. Or almost went boom." Ryan managed a weak grin. "I kinda wasn't around after the lights went out."

Dr. Jenkins turned to Jewel. "Vitals?"

"Respirations normal, heart rate 110, BP 100/80. Temp's normal. His skin's a little cool to the touch, no diaphoresis."

Dr. Jenkins returned her gaze to Ryan. "Any pain, Ryan?"

"Not if I stay still. And it's not that bad." Ryan sighed. "I'm just tired."

"Has this happened before when you were tired?"

"Well, no." Ryan frowned.

"All right, Ryan, I'm going to check your abdomen. Would you like me to have your family step out?"

Ryan shook his head. "No, it's okay."

Jewel pulled the covers to Ryan's waist as Dr. Jenkins lifted the gown to examine the incision.

"Your incision looks good. I'm going to check your abdomen now. If there's any pain, tell me right away. All right?"

Ryan nodded. He hissed as Dr. Jenkins reached the area above his incision. "Owwww. That hurt."

Dr. Jenkins smoothed Ryan's gown, then pulled the sheet and blanket up. "Well, Ryan, everything appears to be fine. Although I'm a bit concerned that you still have pain at your incision. And I'm a bit concerned about your heart rate."

"Doctor, we were talking about Ryan's mother right before this happened," Sandy offered.

"That could explain the heart rate." Dr. Jenkins smiled down at Ryan. "Would you like something to help you sleep, Ryan?"

"No, thanks."

Dr. Jenkins slowly raised the head of the bed. "Any dizziness?"

Ryan shook his head.

"Jewel will be checking on you to monitor your blood pressure and heart rate. And if you have any pain, especially when you're still, let the nurses know. All right?"

Ryan nodded. "I will."

Dr. Jenkins smiled and stroked Ryan's hair. "Try to get some rest, Ryan. I'll leave an order for something to help you sleep in case you change your mind."

"Thanks."

"I'll be making rounds later this afternoon," Dr. Jenkins promised, patting Ryan's shoulder.

"Thank you, Dr. Jenkins." Kirsten called as the surgeon left the room.

Ryan moved over on the bed, making room for Kirsten. He leaned his head against her shoulder.

"Ryan, _never_ do that again," Kirsten ordered.

"Not if I can help it," Ryan promised. He took Kirsten's hand.

"Are we okay?" Kirsten squeezed his hand.

"Yeah. Sandy and I talked. We worked it out." Ryan sighed and lifted his head. "It's not that I don't appreciate everything you've done. All of you."

Kirsten put her arm around his shoulders and squeezed gently. "We know."

"You're gettin' her mushy, Ryan. You don't wanna do that."

"I've got news for you Seth. Your whole family's mushy." Ryan grinned. "It just takes a little gettin' used to."

"It's just Mom."

"Sandy, the DVD player's my fault. I broke it. I'll replace it." The apology in the blue eyes was hard to resist. "Seth was just looking out for me when he brought it here."

Sandy smiled at Seth. "You get a reprieve, son." Then he smiled at Ryan. "And don't worry about the DVD player. It's not important."

Ryan rested his head on Kirsten's shoulder again. "You should probably go home and get some rest, too."

Kirsten stroked Ryan's hair, frowning when she touched his forehead. "Your skin _is_ cool. Are you sure you're feeling okay, Ryan?"

"Didn't you hear my answers to Dr. Jenkins?" Ryan lifted his head. "And it's cold in here."

Kirsten kissed the top of Ryan's head. "All right."

"Is it okay if Seth hangs out here?" Ryan's hopeful gaze fell on Seth. "If you want . . .."

Seth nodded. "We've got stuff to talk about. Without the parental units."

"Sure. Seth, let Ryan rest, okay?" Kirsten stood.

"Don't worry about that. Seth'll start on his latest Summer story and I'll drop right off." The line was delivered with a perfectly straight face. Ryan would make one hell of a poker player.

"Good burn, Ryan," Sandy said appreciatively. He leaned over and kissed the top of Ryan's head, then cupped his neck. "Take it easy, kid."

Ryan nodded.

Kirsten squeezed Ryan's hand, then walked around the bed and hugged Seth. "It's not the greatest, but you should probably try to grab a nap on the couch."

Seth hugged his mother and kissed her cheek. "Not a bad idea."

Sandy followed Kirsten to the door, turning for one final look at the two boys. Seth had settled on the couch and Ryan had scooted down in the bed, pulling the covers up to his shoulders.

"Did I tell you Summer ate lunch with me on Thursday? Well, not really with me, with me. She was at the table behind me. But she sat in the chair directly behind me."

Ryan snored.

Sandy put an arm around Kirsten as they stepped into the hall. "Dr. Jenkins got one thing right."

"What's that?"

"Ryan's a lucky kid. She just doesn't realize that he's not the only one."

Kirsten squeezed his waist.

"What'd you say to Ryan last night?"

Kirsten shrugged. "Just some things he's never heard." She paused. "What did you say to him about his mother?"

"That I'd help her get the help she needs."

"Sandy, she lied to us that first time. She didn't want to quit drinking enough to make things work with her own son. She didn't care about anything this time except that Ryan belonged to her. He's not even her child to her. He's a possession." Tears welled in Kirsten's eyes. "You didn't see Ryan last night, Sandy. The Ryan we know was gone. If he hadn't . . .." She ran a hand through her hair. "For a while there, I was afraid he'd end up on a psychiatric ward somewhere. If we let his mother near him again, I'm afraid that's exactly what _will_ happen. And I _won't_ allow it." Kirsten pulled away from him and walked ahead.

Sandy caught up to her and took her hand, stopping her. He put his hands on her shoulders, holding her in place. "I feel the same way about her as you and Seth. She's screwed with her own son's head and hurt him since the day he was born, probably." He shook his head. "Ryan knows that, too. But _we_ can't replace her, babe. And no matter how hard we try, there'll always be a hole we can't fill."

"I know. I saw it." Kirsten hugged Sandy.

Sandy wrapped his arms around her. "Ryan's back. He has to learn to see himself the way we see him." He kissed her temple. "It's just gonna take some time."

Kirsten nodded against his chest, then pulled back. "I don't want to go to the house, Sandy. It's too empty without the boys."

"How about that little place by the beach? It's not far from the hospital."

"Good plan." Kirsten kissed her husband.

Sandy put an arm around Kirsten's shoulders and they walked to the elevator. "Did I tell you Rosa's theory?"

Kirsten laughed. "About what?"

"Ryan's a foundling left on the wrong doorstep."

"Works for me," Kirsten muttered.

**3:30 p.m.**

Seth and Ryan spent the morning and afternoon napping and hanging out in Ryan's room. If you ignored the smell of pine, it was almost like hanging out in the poolhouse. Seth was beating his best score ever on _Pro Skater II_, while Ryan finished the final installment in the _Legion_ series.

Seth put the Gameboy down, leaned back in the chair and folded his hands on his stomach. He tried to watch Ryan, who was on the last page, without appearing to watch him.

After a minute, Ryan closed the comic. "Awesome, Seth. Thanks again for letting me read it first." He handed the pages to Seth.

"At least something about this doesn't suck, right?" Seth took the book, staring at the cover.

"Deep thoughts. Wanna share?"

Seth took a deep breath. "Sorry I did such a crappy job . . . last night."

"Hey, you didn't leave when I told you to."

A lump formed in Seth's throat. Maybe he and Ryan weren't okay after all.

"That's not what I meant." Ryan sighed. "At least you tried . . . you know?" He leaned back and stared at the ceiling.

"Okay, this is gonna sound weird, but . . .." Seth shrugged. "Havin' you around is kinda like having a brother." He smiled. "No, it's actually _having_ a brother. I know we're not related and it's, like, totally geeky. And you already have one brother. What do you need with two, right? Although, sorry to say he's not really a winner, but, hey, blood is thicker, right?" He threw his hands up. "But I said it. It's out there."

Ryan lowered his head, then smiled crookedly. "You're a better brother than Trey, Seth." He paused. "Way better, 'cause Trey never tried to protect me from . . . well, from anything."

Seth grinned. He was elated to no longer be an only child. And, even without a basis for comparison, he was pretty sure that Ryan was the cream of the brother crop. "Hey, Ryan, you're a way better brother than Trey. 'Cause you're always trying to protect me." Being able to say it and not just think it, or say it to himself during "Me Time" was awesome.

"Even when you don't listen." Ryan grinned, then turned serious. "Oh, and we're even now. For the night-before-cotillion party at Holly's."

Seth frowned and shook his head. "Even?"

"Remember? You said you'd owe me if I went to the party, even though I didn't want to go. You promised someday you'd do something really awesome to pay me back?"

"But, Ryan, I didn't do anything." Seth's voice broke and he shook his head. "Last night doesn't count."

"You tried, Seth. _That_ was pretty awesome." Ryan shivered. "It's more than Trey ever did. Sometimes he'd make her mad at me, so she'd forget how mad she was at him."

"The grass _is_ greener," Seth muttered, drawing a frown from Ryan. "One of my dad's clichés. Never mind."

"And then there's _Legion_. Now I really owe you." Ryan frowned. "I probably can't swing date-with-Summer awesome, but I think I can manage to come up with something."

Seth shook his head. "Come home." He nodded. "That'll be awesome enough. 'Cause I'm havin' to kick Dad's butt at Playstation and you _know_ that's no fun."

Ryan grinned. "You just have to have the patience of a saint."

A soft knock sounded on the door and a giant entered the room as Seth turned. The lanky boy swallowed at the sight. He didn't want to be in the big guy's way, so he stood and backed toward the bed. "Can we help you? Sir." He was dressed like an orderly, but you could never tell sometimes.

"Hey, little bruddah. Micah. Remember me?"

"Say you do, even if you don't," Seth whispered from the corner of his mouth.

"Yeah. Hey, Micah." Ryan patted Seth's shoulder. "We're okay, Seth."

The giant smiled and Seth had to blink. "You got your head back on straight, hey? And you been treatin' that sweet lady good?"

Seth frowned at Ryan.

"Your mom . . . our . . . mom." Ryan blinked, then regarded Micah from the corners of his eyes. "Yeah. She treats me better, though," he said quietly.

Micah reached a beefy hand toward Seth, resting it on his shoulder. "Relax." Another blinding smile.

Seth swallowed twice. "I'm Seth . . . Seth Cohen." He held out a hand, which promptly disappeared in Micah's meaty fist. He wondered if he'd get his hand back and was surprised when he did.

"I just wanna check on little bruddah, here." Micah regarded Ryan. "You hangin' tight and things workin' out, just like Micah told you, hey?"

Ryan smiled. "Yep." He frowned. "Hey, I'm sorry . . . and thanks."

A hand the size of a dinner plate landed on Ryan's shoulder. "You okay, little bruddah. You just gotta learn to roll beddah, hey?" The big man smiled at Seth. "You okay, too, bruddah."

The hand on Seth's shoulder was surprisingly gentle. He nodded. "Yeah, great. And, hey, thanks for lookin' out for little bruddah, here." He grinned at Ryan.

"You keep hangin' tight, little bruddah. You need Micah, I be dere, hey?"

"Thanks, man." Ryan nodded.

After one last blinding smile, the giant lumbered from the room. Seth blew a breath out and collapsed into the chair.

"Wow, Micah could single handedly obliterate those water polo jerks." Seth grinned. "Think he'd . . . like . . .?"

Ryan shook his head. "He probably wouldn't think that was cool." He shrugged. "I . . . ah . . . got kinda outta hand last night . . . after . . .."

"Oh." Seth held a hand up. "We don't -"

"No, it's cool. You're dyin' for the 411."

Seth nodded. "Well, yeah, but I can interrogate Mom."

Ryan smiled. It was an I-know-something-you-don't smile. He'd be a tough nut to crack, but Seth had his ways.

"Kirsten . . .." Ryan frowned. "I don't think . . . Mom's not a really great word for me. Dad's not really . . .."

Seth held a hand up and nodded. "The sentiment's there, Ryan." He shrugged. "We just hang tight, like Micah said and things'll work out just like Micah said."

Ryan leaned back into the pillow and pulled the blanket up to his chin. "The meat locker at the restaurant is warmer than this place," he muttered.

"Okay, Ryan, back on track. Unless . . .."

Ryan took a deep breath. "One of the nurses called Micah 'cause I . . . freaked . . . when I woke up. Everybody finally left, but Micah." The shrug was barely perceptible from beneath the blanket. "He sat down on the couch and started talking." He shook his head. "I don't really remember what he said." He sighed. "Guess I'm lucky. He coulda done some damage if talkin' hadn't worked."

"Not to little bruddah." Seth grinned.

"You repeat that at school and you know I'll have to kick your ass."

Seth waggled his eyebrows. "Don't worry. But I'm gonna enjoy it, little bruddah."

"Dude, I'm three weeks older than you are. I'm the big bruddah. You're the little bruddah." Ryan laughed, then gasped.

Seth stood and put a hand on Ryan's shoulder. "Want me to call the nurse?"

Ryan took several breaths, then shook his head. He absently rubbed his right side. "My guts just haven't recovered, yet."

Seth squeezed Ryan's shoulder. "No more comedy routines. Got it." Ryan looked worse today than he had when he was in ICU. Then again, last night was worse than his appendix. "Mom'll ground me 'til I'm 21 if she gets back and it looks like I'm keepin' you awake." He grinned. "Did I tell you about History class on Tuesday?"

Ryan reached a hand from beneath the blanket and patted Seth's hand which was still resting on his shoulder. "Thanks, Seth."

Seth patted Ryan's shoulder. "You comfortable? Want me to fluff your pillow? Find you a mint?"

Ryan smiled, settling down into the bed. "I'm good. So, what did Summer do in History class on Tuesday?"

Seth pulled the chair closer to the bed. "We were supposed to start Chapter 3, you know, pilgrims landing on Plymouth Rock and the first Thanksgiving. Summer must've had to get her nails done, or her legs waxed . . .." Summer's shapely, tanned legs were an irresistible image.

"Focus, Seth."

Seth blinked, banishing the pleasant image. "Summer didn't read Chapter 3, so before class, she asked me . . . well, no, she demanded that I fill her in on the homework."

"_I'm_ stunned." Ryan covered his mouth, yawned and quickly dropped his hand beneath the blanket. He closed his eyes, turning his head toward Seth. "You tell her what Chapter 3 was really about? Or were the pilgrims a sailor, his first mate, a millionaire, etc.?" A wan grin formed. "I got Trey with that one once." He shivered. "He was so easy," he muttered, then sighed. "Beat the crap outta me."

The last statement made Seth shiver. Hiding it was easy, since Ryan never opened his eyes. "But for the rage blackouts, Ryan. But for the rage blackouts," he said finally. "Hey, if Summer ever asks you for the homework, you go for it, 'kay?" He smiled, even though Ryan couldn't see it. "I only had, like, five minutes, but I explained the whole gettin' kicked out of England, trying voyage, landing on Plymouth rock, tough winter. Summer just said 'Ewww' a lot, so I think she got it."

Ryan's chest rose and fell and he didn't respond to the last statement. Seth leaned forward and rested his hand on Ryan's shin. He gently patted it. "That's about as mushy as I'll get, little bruddah," he muttered.

Seth leaned back, stretched and surveyed the room. The couch was too far away. The chair was too narrow. He yawned, then leaned forward and folded his arms on the bed. He put his head down, just like he'd done in grammar school. He fit just right between Ryan's leg and the end of the bed. He closed his eyes and thought about Summer's legs again. Maybe that would keep the trolls away.


	7. Chapter 7

See Chapters 1 and 4 for Disclaimers

"It's a Mom Thing"

by Lisa O'Brien

Copyright September, 2003

**CHAPTER SEVEN**

**Sunday, October 5**

**6:45 p.m.**

Sandy and Kirsten slept away most of the day at the hotel, then grabbed a quick bite to eat. There had been no calls from Seth, or Ryan, so they were reasonably certain that both boys were safe and sound. That didn't keep Kirsten from worrying and she was anxious to get back to the hospital.

Kirsten entered the room first and turned to Sandy. "They're both sound asleep," she whispered.

"That's a relief." Sandy smiled. "Why don't you let me take the night shift, babe?" He rubbed her shoulder.

"Tomorrow night, I promise." Kirsten shrugged. "Ryan and I hang out on Sunday nights."

Sandy's thick brows joined. "You watch PBS . . .." His eyes widened. "Ahhh, so does Ryan." He shook his head, then tilted it slightly. "He actually likes those shows?"

Kirsten smiled. "Ryan's very intelligent."

"I can't understand what they're saying half the time."

Kirsten raised a perfectly shaped eyebrow.

Sandy's eyes widened and he smiled appreciatively. "A burn without saying a word. You're good."

Kirsten laughed quietly. "I'll get Seth." She left Sandy standing next to the closet and crept to the chair. She knelt next to Seth and stroked his hair. "My poor baby, you're exhausted."

Seth mumbled, slowly opening his eyes and squinting at his mother. "We're sleepin'." He lifted his head and stretched, blinking drowsily.

Kirsten smiled. "I can see that. Daddy's gonna take you home so you can sleep in your bed, okay?"

Seth nodded. "Okay, Mama," he mumbled.

Kirsten stood, then helped Seth to stand. She kissed his cheek before handing him off to Sandy.

"You'll be home in two shakes," Sandy promised quietly.

"Ryan's not coming with?" Seth mumbled as his father led him to the door.

"Your Mom's staying with him. He'll be fine." Sandy kissed the top of Seth's head and quietly led him out of the room.

**8:05 p.m.**

Ryan's mouth was parched by the time he woke up. The T.V. was on and he slowly opened his eyes, blinking until the picture focused. Seth was gone, so he must've been asleep for a while.

Kirsten smiled and got up from the couch. "Hey. You just missed _As Time Goes By_."

"Sorry," Ryan whispered.

Kirsten stroked his hair. "I've got the DVD at home. We'll watch it whenever you're ready." She paused. "You're in time for _Keeping Up Appearances_. You like that one, don't you?"

Ryan nodded. "Sometimes." He swallowed. "I'm thirsty."

Kirsten filled a cup with water and handed it to him. "Do you want me to have Debbie bring your dinner in?"

Ryan's nose wrinkled. "Not hungry." He gulped the water, until Kirsten put her hand over his. "Sorry." He sipped and squinted at the set. "What's Hyacinth up to?"

"She bought that tiny place in the country last week. She's entertaining today."

"_That's_ gonna end in disaster." Ryan sipped the last of the water and set the cup down. Silently, he scooted over on the bed.

Kirsten smiled and sat next to him, putting an arm around his shoulders. She brushed the hair from his forehead, then rested the back of her hand on it. "Ryan, are you feeling all right?"

"I'll tell you when I wake up all the way." Ryan rested his head on Kirsten's shoulder. He pointed to the television and one of the characters on the show. "There's Emmet. He's funny. Did they ever do an episode where he smacks Hyacinth?"

"Ryan!" Kirsten scolded. "Well, that, or Richard smacking her would be pretty funny, wouldn't it?" She laughed softly. "Sandy found out about our little secret. Sorry."

Ryan shrugged, trying to ignore the dull ache in his stomach. His vision blurred and his ears rang. "Kirsten -" The ache turned sharp, lancing through his stomach. Something was trying to cut its way out from the inside.

Ryan felt Kirsten lower him to the bed. He wrapped his arms around his middle and rolled onto his left side. He heard Kirsten calling his name, but he couldn't answer her. Just breathing was hard enough. He ground his teeth together and squeezed his eyes shut. The pain this time was worse than his appendix and every punch or kick to his stomach he'd ever had. Put together.

**8:15 p.m.**

"What happened?" Debbie demanded as she rushed into the room after Kirsten's frantic call.

"I don't know. Ryan woke up. We were watching television and he suddenly grabbed his stomach." Kirsten's eyes widened. "I gave him a glass of water. I thought it would be okay. . . but he drank it fast."

"I don't think Ryan would be in this much pain from that, Mrs. Cohen," Debbie said gently. She turned her attention to Ryan, who was curled onto his left side.

Ryan drew his legs up, straightened them and drew them up again. His jaw muscles twitched and the veins in his neck were raised against the pale, clammy skin.

"First things first." Debbie removed a syringe from her pocket, swabbed the I.V. port and injected medication into the line. She capped the syringe and disposed of it in the red box on the wall. She rubbed the boy's back. "Just hang on another second, Sweetie."

Debbie pulled a mask from behind the bed and placed it over Ryan's nose and mouth. "Ryan, try to relax and take some deep breaths for me. Okay?"

"What's wrong with Ryan?" Kirsten demanded. "Where's Dr. Jenkins? What if she's in surgery? What if she can't get up here right away?"

"I promise, Mrs. Cohen, Dr. Jenkins is on her way up. She'll be here any minute." Debbie continued rubbing Ryan's back.

Ryan drew his legs up, slowly rocking himself minutely forward and back. His eyes were squeezed tightly shut and a tear fell from the outer corner of one eye.

"Oh, Ryan, honey, I'm so sorry. I wish I could take it away." Kirsten brushed the tear from Ryan's cheek, wondering if he'd even heard her. She was supposed to be able to fix anything. For the second time in less than a week, she couldn't help Ryan. She couldn't even hold him because she couldn't move him without making the pain worse.

Ryan opened his eyes and groaned. "I . . . know." The statement was barely audible from beneath the mask. "S'okay."

Kirsten sighed, relieved that Ryan had heard her. She brushed his cheek with the backs of her fingers. She knelt, level with Ryan's eyes."Let's try those deep breaths. I'll do them with you." She took a deep breath, smiling when Ryan followed her lead. Slowly she let the breath out and drew in another breath. She held it, then let it out. "That's it." Inhale. Exhale. Inhale. Exhale. "Aren't you glad you quit smoking?" She laughed nervously. "Did you just roll your eyes at me?"

Ryan nodded weakly.

The seconds seemed like hours as Kirsten watched Ryan writhe in pain. Her knees hurt and her shins were trembling from supporting her weight as she knelt unable to support herself on the bed without causing Ryan more pain. She remained at Ryan's eye level. It was the only thing she could do to help Ryan. It wasn't enough.

Finally, Ryan's agonized breathing slowed and his face relaxed. Keeping one hand around his middle, he reached up for the oxygen mask.

"Ah-ah, Ryan." Debbie scolded him. "There are people in L.A. who pay twenty bucks a shot for this stuff." The absence of levity in the tone betrayed the nurse's concern.

"Smells funny," Ryan muttered.

Kirsten stroked Ryan's hair. "They need to get those scented masks, like at the dentist, don't they?"

Ryan nodded.

"Ryan was terrified because he had to have a tooth filled last month, but he didn't mind when the dentist gave him nitrous." Kirsten forced herself to smile.

"No . . . stories, . . . Kirsten."

Kirsten winked at Ryan. "He doesn't want me ruining his bad boy image."

"I've got news for you, Ryan. It's ruined," Debbie informed. "All right, Ryan, I'm going to move you onto your back. You just relax and let me do all the work, okay." She supported his head and neck as she turned him. "Feel up to answering some questions?"

Ryan nodded.

"When did the pain start?"

"When I . . . woke up. Jus' . . . hit me."

"Dr. Jenkins is on her way up," Debbie advised. "I'm going to take your pulse and blood pressure. You just relax and keep breathing for me. Okay?"

Ryan nodded.

Dr. Jenkins hurried into the room.

"I'll be right over here." Kirsten kissed Ryan's forehead before stepping away from the bed. They would have to physically remove her from the room if they wanted her out. She crossed her arms, anxiously watching Ryan.

Debbie was removing the pressure cuff when Dr. Jenkins reached the side of the bed where Kirsten had been standing.

"What have we got, Debbie?"

"Sudden, severe abdominal pain. It started about five to seven minutes ago. He's dropped his pressure and his heart rate's 120. He's got 2 m.g. of morphine on board. His labs have been normal. Last one was drawn at 4:00 this afternoon."

"Good." Dr. Jenkins nodded at the nurse, then focused on Ryan. "Ryan, was the pain dull, or sharp when it started?"

"Dull . . . sharp . . . real quick."

"Any pain in your shoulders?"

Ryan shook his head.

"I'm going to have to examine your belly, Ryan. I'll be as gentle and as quick as I can." Dr. Jenkins lifted the gown and placed her palm near Ryan's navel.

Ryan groaned and tried to turn away.

"I'm sorry, Luv." Dr. Jenkins brushed the damp hair from Ryan's forehead. "You've been a naughty boy and ripped your stitches, Ryan."

"Ryan didn't . . .," Kirsten protested, unable to finish the statement. She covered her mouth as a sob choked her.

Dr. Jenkins inhaled sharply. "Oh, Ryan. I'm so sorry. Your stitches have been naughty and ripped themselves out." She smiled. "Don't worry. We can take care of them. I'll put in the not-naughty stitches this time."

Ryan nodded.

Dr. Jenkins glanced across the bed at Debbie. "Would you call down and set up an O.R., STAT. And an anesthesiologist."

"No . . . no . . . please, not . . . again." Ryan shook his head. "Don't . . . wanna . . . go to . . . ICU . . .." The boy tried to sit up. "I'm . . . fine . . . now."

Dr. Jenkins put her hands on Ryan's shoulders and gently pushed him back. "It's all right, Ryan," she assured gently. "Shhh." She glanced at Debbie. "I've got it."

Debbie nodded and hurried from the room.

"No more . . . surgery . . . please," Ryan begged. "I'm . . . fine. Really."

Dr. Jenkins leaned over the bed and took Ryan's face in her hands. "Shhh. It's okay, Ryan. Shhh. Shhh." She paused waiting for Ryan to focus on her. "I know you're frightened, Luv. But this is the only way that I can help you." She smiled. "I won't let anything happen. I promise." She winked. "I'm very, very fond of you, Ryan."

A tear fell from Kirsten's eye and she brushed it away. She couldn't start crying in front of Ryan. The prospect of a second surgery had frightened him enough.

Kirsten made a mental note to apologize again to Dr. Jenkins for misjudging her that first night.

"Ryan, will you let me make you better?" Dr. Jenkins asked quietly.

Kirsten wondered if the doctor knew just how important that question was.

Ryan relaxed, closed his eyes and nodded.

Dr. Jenkins smiled. "And I won't have you in ICU again. Inciting my best nurses to leave their floor when you move to another one." She winked.

Ryan's face was the picture of innocence. "Who . . . me?"

Dr. Jenkins laughed. "Yes, you." She looked over at Kirsten and motioned her back to the side of the bed. "And your mum will be with you until you go downstairs."

Ryan's face fell. "Mom's . . . in jail."

"Oh, dear, there I've gone and put the other foot in my mouth, haven't I?" Dr. Jenkins stroked Ryan's cheek. "I'm sorry, Luv."

Ryan shrugged and closed his eyes. A tear dropped onto the oxygen mask.

Dr. Jenkins pulled a tissue from the box next to the bed and wiped the tear away. "You know, Ryan, sometimes your mum isn't the woman who brought you into the world." She touched his cheek. "Sometimes she's the one who's there when you need her."

Ryan opened his eyes and nodded silently. His eyes found Kirsten. "I'm . . . sorry."

Kirsten managed a half-smile. "I understand, baby. It's okay." She took his hand, mindful of the stitches, stroking the backs of his fingers with her thumb. "Doesn't change a thing. I promise."

Ryan smiled weakly, then swallowed. "I'm really thirsty."

"I'm sorry, Luv. You'll be going up to surgery any minute." Dr. Jenkins patted his shoulder.

Ryan swallowed and grimaced. "Please . . .." The blue eyes pleaded for relief.

"What about ice chips? Just a few wouldn't hurt," Kirsten suggested. "He's so thirsty."

Dr. Jenkins nodded. "I'll get them." She stepped away from Kirsten, then turned back and squeezed her shoulders. "See what I mean, Ryan?" She winked at Kirsten, then walked quickly to the door.

Ryan closed his eyes as Kirsten stroked his forehead. He squeezed the hand still holding his.

Dr. Jenkins returned with a cup of ice and a spoon. "Well, Ryan, my reputation as a tough-as-nails surgeon is completely ruined now."

Ryan waited for her to reach the bedside, then managed a weak smile. He lifted the mask. "Got . . . news. It . . . already . . . was." He replaced it before Dr. Jenkins could scold him.

Dr. Jenkins laughed and handed the cup to Kirsten. "Your other son's a bad influence on him, Mrs. Cohen."

"They're two of a kind, all right." Kirsten smiled and the doctor. "And I'm Kirsten."

"Just a few of those, now." Dr. Jenkins glanced at Ryan. "Don't let those lovely blue eyes get the better of you."

"They are hard to resist." Kirsten winked at Ryan, who rolled his blue eyes at her.

"An anesthesiologist is on the way up. And someone from patient services will be up to transfer Ryan. You can walk with him to the doors of the O.R. suite."

"Thank you so much, Dr. Jenkins." The words didn't seem like enough.

"I'm Marie." Dr. Jenkins smiled.

Ryan waved a hand. "Remember . . . me?"

Kirsten flushed. "Sorry, Sweetie." She scooped ice chips onto the bowl of the spoon and fed them to Ryan once he lifted the mask. At least Ryan seemed relaxed and whatever Debbie had given him had taken the pain away. She wished there was something for the butterflies in her stomach. They felt like they were the size of eagles.

"We'll need some new lab work, Ryan, so a nurse will be in to draw blood," Dr. Jenkins informed.

Ryan finished dissolving the ice chips and swallowed. "If I . . . have . . . any . . . left."

Dr. Jenkins laughed, mussed Ryan's hair, then impulsively smoothed it again. "You're feeling better, I see."

"You left . . . yourself open . . . for that . . . one." Ryan grinned weakly.

Another nurse and a petite Asian woman in dark blue scrubs and a white coat entered the room.

"Therese, we'll need a full work-up," Dr. Jenkins informed. "Ryan, this is Dr. Fielding. She'll take good care of you."

Kirsten frowned at the inconsistency of the names.

"Married name." Dr. Fielding smiled.

Kirsten shook her head. "I'm sorry."

Dr. Fielding winked. "Don't worry, my mother and father aren't very happy with it, either." She turned to Ryan and smiled down at him. "We didn't get to formally meet last time, Ryan."

Ryan frowned. "Hey."

In spite of the banter and the brave face Kirsten had put on for Ryan's benefit, the arrival of Dr. Fielding brought home the fact that this latest complication was real and not just a nightmare Kirsten would wake from. Her anger at Dawn returned full force, since there was no doubt that Ryan's mother had caused this injury. Her face flushed and a lump formed in her throat.

"May I borrow . . . Kirsten? Just for a minute, I promise."

Ryan nodded. "Not . . . too . . . long." He squeezed Kirsten's hand.

Dr. Jenkins nodded toward the door and Kirsten followed her into the hall.

On the short walk, Kirsten's heart skipped several beats. "Is something wrong, doctor? I mean, Marie? What is it?"

Dr. Jenkins patted Kirsten's arm. "You looked like you might be able to use some one-on-one reassurance. And it gives Dr. Fielding a chance to evaluate Ryan and reassure him a little." She smiled reassuringly. "I meant my promise to Ryan."

Kirsten blew out a breath. "It's not that." Her eyes narrowed. "This happened . . . when Ryan's -" She sobbed and covered her mouth so Ryan wouldn't hear her.

Dr. Jenkins squeezed her arm. "That's the most likely explanation. Ryan's been tolerating the clear diet very well." She sighed. "If he'd been willing to communicate with me . . .."

Kirsten shook her head and swallowed, trying to regain her composure. After a minute, she succeeded. "You made the right decision." It was her turn to comfort the doctor. "Testing and another surgery . . . they would've made things worse for Ryan." She paused. "He won't go back to ICU, will he?"

Dr. Jenkins shook her head. "His condition is better tonight than it was . . . was it Tuesday?"

Kirsten nodded.

"The only unknown is whether Ryan has a lower tolerance for the anesthetics. Dr. Fielding will be prepared for it, though." Dr. Jenkins shook her head. "I wish I could say it with more certainty -"

"But medicine is as much an art as a science." Kirsten had heard the statement before. She shivered. "How long will this surgery take?"

"One to two hours. You can call your husband and Seth and have them meet you downstairs."

Kirsten shook her head. "They both need their rest. They won't be happy . . .." She shrugged. Father and son would be more than unhappy with her. Sandy would see reason eventually. There was no sense in having the entire family drop from exhaustion and wind up hospitalized with Ryan. Seth would be more difficult. At the very least, he wouldn't acknowledge her presence for a month.

"Barring any complications, Ryan will come back to his room from recovery in approximately three hours." Dr. Jenkins squeezed Kirsten's arm a final time. "You'd better get back to Ryan. He'll scold me if I keep you out here past sixty seconds." She winked. "I'm going to scrub. Tell Ryan I'll see him in the O.R. I'll be the one in the scrubs and the mask."

Kirsten wanted to hug the doctor. "Thank you, again, Marie. You've done so much for Ryan. More than you'll ever know." Because Marie was English, Kirsten didn't hug her. Instead, she reached out and squeezed the other woman's arm.

Dr. Jenkins smiled and patted Kirsten's hand. "He's a very special boy. And he's got a very special family." She turned and bustled toward the elevators, pausing for a final wave.

"If only he could see it," Kirsten said quietly. She took a deep breath, trying to calm the doubts and fears that ambushed her once she was alone in the hall. She had to be strong for Ryan.

"Just hang tight, Kirsten. Everything will work out," Kirsten whispered. She put on her bravest smile and returned to Ryan's room.

**8:35 p.m.**

To pass the time, Kirsten had settled on the bed with Ryan to watch _Fawlty Towers_. He suspected that she was only doing it to make him feel better, which she didn't need to do. The pre-op sedative had taken care of that.

_Fawlty Towers_ was the last show in the line-up on the Sunday nights Ryan spent watching PBS with Kirsten. It was his favorite, in spite of the weird clothes and the references he didn't understand because he wasn't English and wasn't alive when it was made. He grinned drowsily. He wasn't even an inkling in anybody's eye because both of his parents had still been in grade school.

Like _Smallville_, Ryan never missed _Fawlty Towers_. Although sometimes the quiet time watching T.V. with Kirsten was the real reason he ventured from the poolhouse on Sunday nights.

Ryan had laughed more during the first five minutes of tonight's episode than he had on other Sundays. That was probably the pre-op sedative. The most he did at home was smile, or occasionally chuckle. He still found it kind of strange to think of the Cohens' as "home." Home hadn't been a nice place most of his life and he'd avoided it as much as he could. It was a good kind of strange, though. Maybe someday, he'd let his guard down at home and laugh this much on Sunday nights with Kirsten.

Ryan leaned his head against Kirsten's shoulder and she stroked his hair. Mentally, he took a snapshot of this moment to keep it and look back on later. That used to only happen with the bad times. He didn't know why. Maybe some day, he'd have a scrapbook inside his head that would make him happy, instead of sad.

"Hey, dere, little bruddah." Micah rolled a gurney into the room and parked it next to the bed. The big man smiled and nodded to Kirsten.

Micah was back and that made Ryan pretty happy. The big Samoan was definitely good luck for him. He grinned. "Dude!" He held his closed fist out.

Micah stared at his hand, then smiled and reached forward. Ryan's knuckles only brushed two of Micah's.

"You goin' downstairs, hey?"

"Yeah, but I'm . . . hanging tight. Things'll . . . work out."

"You said it, little bruddah." Micah grinned. "You ready for your ride, hey?"

"No wheelies . . . in front of Kirsten," Ryan warned, squinting and pointing an index finger in the general direction of the big man. There were two Micahs. Double the good luck.

"You got it, little bruddah." Micah efficiently gathered the blanket and sheets.

Ryan started to protest. Moving hurt. Not with the Micahs, though. The move to the gurney was gentle and didn't hurt.

The rails went up and Ryan felt like he was in a crib. He'd hated his crib and the third or fourth-hand playpen his mother put him in when he was a toddler. Trey would shake it and knock it over and then somebody would yell at Ryan for crying. Then again, without them, he'd probably roll off the bed and do more damage than he'd already done.

Except that Ryan hadn't done this. Dr. Jenkins didn't mean it when she said he'd ripped the stitches. She said the stitches had been the naughty ones. That wasn't true, either though. Stitches are inanimate objects. They don't rip by themselves. Dawn had done this.

Ryan shook the thought off. He couldn't deal with it. He watched the Micahs hang lots of bags above his head, which felt like it was filled with cotton balls.

Ryan tried to bring the two Micah's into focus, but his eyes weren't working right. "You're a . . . cool guy." He grinned.

"You cool, too, little bruddah." Micah's fist patted Ryan's shoulder and part of his chest.

Newport Beach was weird sometimes, but there were lots of cool people living there. The Cohens were the coolest, at least to Ryan. He wanted to get this surgery over with. Once it was done, he'd be that much closer to going home. And Kirsten and Seth and Sandy would be there for him.

Ryan waved in the general direction of the door. "Home, James." He snickered.

Micah's booming laugh echoed through the room as he steered the gurney toward the door.

Ryan craned his head back, making sure that Kirsten would follow. Once they were in the hall, she fell into step beside him and took his hand.

Sandy may have been the one to give him a chance and Seth may have been the first person to be a real friend, but Kirsten had done the most for Ryan. She'd been the one to give him a real home and a real family, for the first time in his life. And she'd been the first person in his life to love him with no strings attached.

Dawn always worried about him hating her, which he couldn't do, no matter how hard he tried. She would always be his mother. Mothers were supposed to love their kids unconditionally. Dawn could never do that. Sometimes, he'd wondered if she loved him at all. She said she did, but they were just words. And they lost their meaning when they came after a slap in the face, or a shove to the floor.

They didn't mean shit when your mother yelled at you for throwing up on your bed when you had the flu. Or when your ribs were broken because her boyfriend didn't like the fact that you did your homework before washing the dishes.

When Ryan had freaked out and told Kirsten to leave him alone, she didn't. She'd had every right to leave, or get mad, or hit him, or hate him. And she didn't cry because he told her to leave, she cried because he was freaked out and she couldn't help him. She cared about him, with no strings or conditions.

Dawn's love was a spider web, conditional. Ryan had to love her, or she wouldn't love him. He couldn't get sick. He couldn't get a bad grade. He couldn't make A.J. mad. He couldn't make mistakes, no matter how little he was.

"Ryan? Are you all right?"

They were in an elevator. It stopped and the doors clattered as they opened. Kirsten squeezed his hand as he was rolled out of the car into the hall.

Ryan swallowed. "Deep thoughts." Kirsten told him that she loved him and didn't even expect him to love her back. He was afraid to love anybody. When you loved someone, they could hurt you more.

The gurney stopped. Kirsten stopped with it and squeezed Ryan's hand. He tried to squeeze back, but his fingers felt swollen.

"This dah end o'dah line for you, Sweet Lady."

Kirsten leaned down and kissed Ryan's forehead. "I'll be right there when you wake up."

Ryan didn't know what to do. He had to say something to Kirsten. She'd done so many things he hadn't expected and so many things she didn't have to do. It was still so damn scary, though.

"Hey, Ryan, you're going to be fine." Kirsten smiled and brushed the hair from his forehead.

There was a lump in Ryan's throat he couldn't swallow. "I . . .." Tears blurred his vision. It was too scary.

"Everything will be all right, baby. Shhh. It's okay." Kirsten leaned down and kissed his cheek. "I'm Caleb Nichols' daughter and I say so. Remember?" She winked.

Ryan blinked and tried to swallow the lump in his throat. "Not . . .."

Kirsten smiled. "I know, Ryan. It's okay. Give yourself some time." She kissed his cheek again, then kissed his forehead. "I love you, baby. And I promise I'll be there when you wake up."

Ryan nodded, closing his eyes and feeling the tears track down his face. Kirsten said she knew what he wanted to say. He wondered if she knew why he couldn't say it.

The gurney moved forward, but Kirsten didn't. The doors swooshed open, like on space ships in movies and the thought that something very bad could happen made Ryan shiver. Just knowing wasn't enough. The least he could do would be to say how he felt, no matter how scary that was.

"Micah, stop." A sob erupted from Ryan's chest. He hadn't made noise when he cried since he was four or five because it made his dad, his mom and his brother mad. Kirsten didn't get mad at him when he cried after Dawn abandoned him again. She'd acted like she hadn't even noticed him crying. He'd cried the night of Caleb's party after Luke brought Marissa home. Kirsten pretended she didn't notice that time, too.

Ryan was still moving forward, figuratively and literally. To keep the emotional momentum, however, he had to stop the physical motion.

"Please . . . Micah . . . stop." Ryan tried to turn his head back. "Stop! No!"

The gurney halted.

"It's okay, little bruddah. Dr. Jenkins a good doctor. She fix you right up." Micah patted his shoulder.

Ryan tried to see Kirsten, but couldn't. "Kirsten!" She couldn't be gone. She wasn't like Dawn. Kirsten would watch the gurney until she couldn't see it anymore. He squeezed more scalding tears onto his face.

A small, soft hand rested on his cheek. "I'm right here, baby. And I'll stay here as long as you want."

Ryan swallowed. "Kirsten, I . . .." He swallowed again. "I love you, too." The words didn't hurt him.

Tears welled in Kirsten's eyes and she smiled. "Oh, Ryan." She cupped his cheek in her hand. "Thank you." She kissed his cheek.

Kirsten was crying and smiling. Just like that happy-sad feeling he'd had when Dawn left him and Kirsten told him he would stay. That had been the last decision the Cohens had made for him. Since then, the decisions had been his and they'd supported the good ones and forgiven the bad ones.

"You'd better go. You're already late for your date with Dr. Jenkins." Kirsten's face was bright, like she had a light beneath her skin. She wasn't happy-sad. She was just happy. Okay, probably happy-worried. The smile was real, though. For the first time since Dr. Jenkins said he had to have surgery.

Ryan had heard that women cried even if they were happy. He didn't remember Dawn doing any happy crying, although he sometimes comforted himself by imagining she'd done that the day he was born. If Trey's version of events was true, he wasn't fooling anybody but himself.

Ryan mentally kicked that thought with the same force he'd used on the tray that busted up the DVD. He smiled at Kirsten. "Thank you."

When Kirsten leaned forward to kiss Ryan's cheek, he lifted his arms and hugged her. She hugged him often enough, but he'd never hugged her first. He'd finally gotten over feeling weird about Kirsten's gestures when she went into Mom mode. He should've had surgery way sooner.

"I love you," Ryan whispered. Didn't hurt and less scary. He didn't want to let go of Kirsten, but he did. There was no fear that he had to physically hold on to her to keep her from leaving him.

Kirsten would always be there whenever he needed her. He reached for her hand and squeezed it. "Can we go slow, Micah?" It was hard to keep his eyes open.

"You got it, little bruddah." Micah's hand patted his shoulder. "That's what I call hangin' tight."

Micah rolled the bed forward and Ryan let go of Kirsten's hand, trailing his fingers along the palm until the tips of their fingers touched. He carried the image of Kirsten's bright face to light his way.

**10:00 p.m.**

Kirsten anxiously paced the surgical waiting room. The clock had to be broken because the hands didn't seem to be moving at all. She chewed her thumbnail as she made the hundredth turn. Or what seemed like the hundredth.

The door opened and Kirsten froze. The arrival was just another family member returning from the cafeteria, or the bathroom. She would've killed for a cup of coffee, but she was afraid to leave the waiting room. She checked her watch, but that seemed to be broken, too.

Kirsten tried to think about Ryan's small breakthrough tonight. He'd been letting his guard down since he'd been in the hospital, but she'd never expected him to express what he was feeling so soon. She wouldn't have been surprised if Dawn had ruined her son's ability to do that years ago.

Kirsten shivered at the thought of Ryan's mother. Rosa was right. Ryan had to be a foundling. There was no way a self-centered harpy like Dawn could produce a child as kind and sensitive as Ryan.

Kirsten went to the window and leaned her head against the glass. "This totally sucks," she muttered, closing her eyes. The glass was cool and a vent below blew cool air onto her face and neck.

Ryan's life had already been difficult enough. Somehow he'd made it through without irreparable damage. Kirsten hoped she and her family would have more time to undo what his family had done to him during his first 16 years.


	8. Chapter 8

"It's a Mom Thing"

by Lisa O'Brien

Copyright September, 2003

THANK YOU: To Anna M. for her beta reading, encouragement and insightful and constructive skills as an editor. To Ciera for her beta reading, encouragement and quick response. To Anna C. for her beta reading, catching my medical faux pas, encouragement and insightful suggestions. To Debbie for her insightful commentary and encouragement. And to all those who have eMailed me and reviewed the story.

**CHAPTER EIGHT**

**Monday, October 6**

**12:05 a.m.**

"He's coming up. Where do we stand?" The voice sounded like bells.

Ryan used to play with a harness with bells. Those bells were deeper. And old. He liked to run around with the harness on his neck, making the bells _ding_ and _dong_. Until Daddy got mad. He didn't play with the harness after that.

"Done closing. We'll see a definite improvement with the adhesions gone." This voice was like the harness bells.

"They were a bitch, though, weren't they? I was afraid to give him anything else to keep him down."

"How're his vitals."

"Holding steady. Still not breathing on his own. You'll have to extubate in recovery."

Ryan didn't know who the bells were talking about and he didn't really care.

"Now for the true test. Wake him." Harness bells.

"Ryan, can you hear me? Ryan Atwood. Can you hear me?" Little bells. "Open your eyes for me, Ryan."

Kirsten promised to be there when he woke up, but the little bells didn't sound like her voice. Neither did the harness bells. Kirsten's voice was almost like the violin Ryan'd played in 3rd grade because Mom wanted him to. He didn't like it and he was the only boy. The other boys beat him up a lot. He made Trey mad and Trey broke the violin. They couldn't afford another one.

"Try a sternal rub." Little bells again.

Knuckles rubbed Ryan's chest. Hard.

Ryan forced his eyes open to find lights whirling above his head. A pair of black, almond-shaped eyes went in and out of focus.

"Ryan, it's Dr. Fielding. Your surgery's finished." Dr. Fielding sounded just like the little bells.

"See, Ryan, I didn't let anything bad happen to you." That was the harness bells.

A pair of green eyes peered down at Ryan, but he fell back into the clouds before he saw who the harness bells were.

When Ryan opened his eyes again, he was floating in the Cohens' pool on one of the blue and white striped chairs. The water was warm, almost too warm and it felt heavy. Not just there. He reached into the water and gave himself a push, turning the chair one way, then using the other hand to change directions. He squinted up at the sun, which was hot, too. He should get out of the pool before he got a sunburn, but he was too tired.

Ryan turned the chair toward footsteps on the concrete. He was expecting Seth to do a cannonball and splash him, or maybe Sandy to tell him to come in for dinner. The man was tall and thin, with dark, receding hair and a mustache. He wore a suit, but it wasn't nice like Sandy and Seth's suits. It looked old.

"It must be nice being able to lie about all day while some of us are worked to death by our better half." **Basil Fawlty** crossed his arms and glared down at Ryan in the pool.

"Sorry, dude." Ryan tried to get out of the chair and out of the pool, but was too tired to move.

"Dude?" **Basil's** eyes narrowed. "Pffftt." He rolled his eyes and shook his head. "American. I should have known. California, too. The land of fruits and nuts."

A woman in a frilly shirt, short skirt and ridiculously high platform shoes walked from the house to the side of the pool. Her hair was at least four different colors and was piled so high, it made her a good five inches taller than the shoes did.

Ryan guessed that you couldn't have **Basil** in a dream without his wife, **Sybil** following him. Even with the platforms and the hair, she wasn't close to her husband's height. She was probably about 4'5" in her bare feet and 4'0" without the hairdo.

"Basil, leave the boy alone." **Sybil** tottered on tiptoe. "He's just had surgery," she stage-whispered.

"I had concussion and still managed to run the hotel and deal with the Germans," **Basil **argued.

**Sybil** turned to Ryan and smiled. "He insulted the Germans and nearly burned the ho-tel to the ground," she intoned.

Ryan nodded, wide-eyed. "Yeah, I remember that one."

**Sybil **turned back to her husband. "Have you hung the picture, yet, Basil?"

**Basil** rolled his eyes, turned to his wife and smiled mockingly, baring his teeth. "No, my little puff adder. I've been dealing with the menus and the guests and -"

"Right now you're doing nothing but bothering this boy, who's trying to rest." **Sybil **turned to Ryan and clasped her hands, bending toward him and smiling. "We're so sorry to have disturbed you, Ryan."

Ryan waved. "No problem."

**Sybil** straightened and gazed up at **Basil**. "Do you think you might fit in the time to hang the picture now, Basil?"

**Basil** threw his hands up. "Yes, all right."

**Sybil **tottered away on her platforms.

**Basil** watched her go, then turned to Ryan and smiled evilly. "We call her Dragon Breath." The dark eyebrows waggled. "Basil." He sounded just like **Sybil**. Then he slapped himself on the hand and followed his wife.

Ryan heard bells again. He turned toward the sound to find Marissa laughing as she floated in the other chair. She was wearing a very small bikini.

"Who were they?"

"Basil and Sybil Fawlty." Ryan couldn't take his eyes off Marissa. Warmth spread from his chest and into his stomach. If it kept moving south, he'd be in big trouble.

"Are they friends of the Cohens?"

Ryan shook his head. "I don't think so." The sight of Marissa in that bikini was starting to get uncomfortable. He hoped she wouldn't notice.

"How're you feeling?" Marissa dipped her hand in the water and floated toward him.

Ryan grinned. "Weird." He took a deep breath. "You look . . . that . . . I mean . . .." Apparently, he couldn't talk to Marissa in complete sentences in his dreams, either. It had to be the bikini. "I thought you didn't like swimming in the Cohens' pool."

Marissa smiled. Ryan loved her smile. "It's okay, sometimes." She laughed softly. "Besides, we're not swimming. We're floating."

The warmth that had started in Ryan's chest was everywhere now. He'd never felt that without a lot of making out. And sometimes not even then. He'd never made out with Marissa. He'd never kissed her at all. They kept getting interrupted.

Marissa was just smiling at Ryan. And he'd seen her in a bikini before. At least, he thought he had. He pushed himself away from her so she couldn't see what the bikini was doing to him.

A tall, distinguished looking man gazed down on Ryan as he reached the side of the pool. This man was dressed in a nice sweater and suit pants, with polished shoes.

"I wouldn't do that if I were you, Ryan. You two might drift apart and never find one another again," **Lionel Hardcastle** advised.

A distinguished lady with short, grey hair joined **Lionel**. Ryan immediately recognized **Jean**, **Lionel's** wife. She smiled. "Hello, Ryan, how are you feeling, dear?"

**Lionel **smiled. "He's fine, Jean. But for his drifting away from Marissa, I suspect."

"Marissa has a boyfriend," Ryan mumbled. "I can't have her."

"Oh, Ryan, you shouldn't do that." **Jean **hadn't heard him. She laughed nervously. "It might take you 38 years to find her again. You wouldn't want that, would you?"

Thirty-eight years was a long time off. Especially when you were only 16.

"Or they might not be as lucky as we were." **Lionel **put an arm around** Jean**, who put an arm around him and patted his chest.

**Jean's** eyes widened. "Oh, no. We can't have that." She knelt and smiled politely at Ryan. "May I?"

Ryan blinked, then shrugged.

"I'll take that as a yes." **Jean** gave him a gentle push toward Marissa.

"Are those your grandparents, Ryan?" Marissa smiled at him.

"Unh-uh." Ryan shook his head, shivering as a cold breeze blew over him.

The **Hardcastles **were gone when he looked back.

"Young man. Excuse me, young man."

Ryan's head snapped toward the grating voice. "It figures." He frowned at the woman dressed in a fancy flower print dress and a hat more suitable on the head of the Queen of England.

**Hyacinth** **Bucket** (pronounced "Bouquet") waved and smiled at him. "Yes, you, young man." She sounded like she was talking to a 4 year old. "Can you tell me if the water in this pool is of the highest quality?" She didn't wait for an answer. "I won't be caught bathing in low quality water. Is this house at the beginning of the line or at the end?"

A short man in a suit joined **Hyacinth**. **Richard Bucket** was harried, but **Hyacinth** would never let him look anything but distinguished. She'd probably turned his hair grey before they'd been married six months.

"Hyacinth, I don't think Ryan knows where the pool's water comes from." **Richard** turned to Ryan and rolled his eyes.

"Richard, if I'm going to bathe in this water, I must know that it's suitable for a person of my standing." **Hyacinth** squinted at Ryan. "Now, young man, would you be so kind as to answer my question?"

The thought of **Hyacinth** in a bathing suit made Ryan shiver. At least that was counteracting his previous reaction to Marissa in her barely-there bikini.

"End . . . I think we're at the end of the line. Way, way at the end." Ryan dipped a hand into the water and pushed himself away from the **Buckets**.

Ryan drifted to the shallow end of the pool, ignoring **Hyacinth** as she chattered about her son, who appeared on the show only through telephone calls home asking for money.

A thin, dark haired man was crouched behind one of the pillars. Of course, **Emmet** had to be here. He was one of Ryan's favorite characters on the show.

**Emmet **peered around the pillar, gazing at Ryan with frightened eyes. "Where is she? She'll sing at me." He grimaced. "I just _know_ she'll sing at me."

Ryan started to answer when something caught in his throat. He coughed and put his hands up, grasping at the invisible hands strangling him. His eyes widened and his heart thudded in his chest.

Marissa smiled at him. "It's okay, Ryan. Just blow out. Real hard." Marissa's voice sounded like it was coming from under the pool.

"Quit being a little bitch." Trey's last words to Ryan seemed fitting. Especially since Trey was still wearing the same clothes he'd worn that night.

"Oy, don't talk to your little brother like that. Ryan's an A-okay bloke." The slovenly man, with two arms full of tattoos, was **Onslo**, **Hyacinth's** brother-in-law. "I'll set our Hyacinth on you."

"It's done now, Ryan. Just breathe." Marissa wasn't at the bottom of the pool, but she sounded English, like everybody else in this freaking dream. "That's it. Good boy."

Ryan coughed and drew in huge lungfuls of air. The ozone level must have gone up, because the air tasted and smelled funny. When he could breathe again, more characters had joined the party. The warm feeling was completely gone and Ryan guessed he was a few short minutes from totally freaking out. He wanted to wake up from this dream. Now.

Ryan pushed himself to the middle of the pool, wondering absently if the vicar and his wife were going to appear in this episode of Ryan Goes Totally Insane.

"Who invited a hoodlum to this party?" **Hyacinth's** strident voice demanded.

Trey whirled on **Hyacinth** "Back off, grandma." He stepped toward her. "I'm here with my little brother."

**Hyacinth** whacked Trey on the side of the head with her purse. **Onslo** winked at Ryan, then nudged Trey, who flew into the pool, barely missing Ryan.

"Do you have to settle everything with violence, Onslo?" **Hyancinth** sighed and shook her head.

If Ryan hadn't nearly gone into the water with Trey, he probably would've seen some humor in **Hyacinth's** statement. And her less-than-reasonable reaction of smacking his older brother in the side of the head with her purse.

Ryan closed his eyes and gripped the sides of the chair. "Go away. I don't like this dream. It's not funny. It's not cute. Go away and leave me alone."

"Gonna get you, Ryan." Trey's voice came from the bottom of the pool. "Gonna hold you under 'til you don't breathe anymore."

Anxiously, Ryan peered over one side of the chair, then the other. It was getting hard to breathe as his heart pounded in his chest. "Stop it, Trey. I didn't do anything. Leave me alone." He hoped that worked better in a dream than it had in real life.

The water slowly began to rise. When Ryan tried to push himself out of the chair, he couldn't move. "No, Trey." He whipped his head around, looking for his brother. "Stop it, Trey. Please, Trey. Don't."

Ryan looked to the characters at the side of the pool for help, but they were gone. So was Marissa. The water lapped at his neck and he was still frozen in the chair.

Ryan's head went under and he drifted down to the bottom. He blinked, surprised that the water didn't sting his eyes. The characters peered down at him, expressionless.

"Help me!" Ryan screamed, struggling to free himself from the chair.

A blond woman in a sweater, blouse and skirt knelt next to him. That was **Emmet's** sister, **Elizabeth**. She was nice. She had to be. She put up with **Hyacinth **every day.

"Please, help me," Ryan begged.

**Elizabeth** smiled and stroked his cheek. "You're fine, Luv." She didn't sound like the **Elizabeth** on T.V. "It's time for you to wake up now, Ryan."

"I know." Ryan shook his head. "I can't." He vigorously shook his head. "I don't like this dream." It hurt to talk.

"Then wake up and it'll be all over." **Elizabeth **stroked his hair. "Open your eyes, Ryan. Come on, now. Open those lovely blue eyes of yours for me."

Ryan sobbed. "They're open." He shivered in the cold water.

**1:05 a.m.**

Ryan's eyes flew open and he tried to swim up from the bottom of the pool now that his arms and legs were moving. His stomach flipped and his mouth watered. Hands held him down at the bottom of the pool. Trey had gotten him.

"Shhh, Ryan, you're okay, Luv. Shhh." Dr. Jenkins voice. Dr. Jenkins wasn't on a British sitcom. She was a real person. He couldn't be sure, though.

The room around Ryan was spinning and he instinctively closed his eyes, only to open them immediately to keep from falling back to sleep and returning to the dream. He wouldn't be able to come back if he went there again.

A soft hand stroked his hair. "Calm down, Luv. You're okay."

Ryan tried to tell Dr. Jenkins that he was going to throw up, but his throat hurt too much. His stomach heaved and there was nothing he could do to stop it. When he opened his mouth, nothing happened. He had another NG tube.

Ryan sobbed as his body trembled uncontrollably. He broke into a cold sweat, making his skin greasy. He tried to focus on the ceiling tiles, but they were spinning too fast.

What if this was another nightmare? Trey had tried to kill him in the last one. Suddenly, Ryan couldn't breathe. His efforts were rewarded with stabbing pain in his right side. He tried to turn to his left side, but he couldn't move. That upped the fear another notch.

"5 milligrams morphine." Dr. Jenkins put a hand on his shoulder. "It's all right, Ryan. It's just the anesthetics. They'll wear off in a bit." She stroked his hair again. "Shhh, you're all right, Ryan. You came through with flying colors, Luv." She brushed a tear from the bridge of his nose. "Nobody's going to hurt you, Ryan. I won't let them. They're scared stiff of me."

The doctor kept talking to him, but he couldn't understand the words. Warmth trailed up Ryan's arm and soon the pain in his side dimmed. Finally, he turned toward Dr. Jenkins voice, trying to calm down.

That was the plan, but Ryan was failing. Kirsten was supposed to be here. She promised. A hollow feeling formed in his chest as Ryan realized that she'd probably gone home to be with her family. Her real family, which didn't include him. Tears blurred his vision more than the spinning.

"I know you're frightened, Luv. Look at me." Dr. Jenkins wiped a tear from his cheek. "Open your eyes and look at me, Ryan."

Ryan obeyed, blinking until the doctor's green eyes and smile focused. "Kir -" He winced and swallowed.

Dr. Jenkins picked up a cup and spoon. "I have ice chips, ready and waiting just for you, Luv." She smiled and scooped a few chips out.

Somebody lifted Ryan's shoulders, since he couldn't sit up by himself.

Ryan's jaw worked as he dissolved the ice and let the cold water trickle down his angry throat. Hands laid him back down.

Dr. Jenkins smiled and cupped his cheek. "Ah, you must've been the sweetest baby."

Ryan didn't know what to say to that, so he just shrugged. He hoped the doctor wasn't coming on to him. She was way older than Gabrielle.

"I guess you wouldn't really know the answer to that, would you?" Dr. Jenkins chuckled.

"Kirsten -" Ryan swallowed. "Home?" His ability to form complete sentences was obviously gone forever. He rolled his eyes, bringing on another wave of dizziness. He opened his eyes the instant it passed.

"Let's have one more, shall we?" Dr. Jenkins scooped more ice onto the spoon and Ryan was lifted up gently.

Ryan shivered as he worked the ice chips in his mouth. He was freezing to death.

Dr. Jenkins took a blanket from someone just out of Ryan's sight and placed it over him. It was warm and the shivering stopped. "Kirsten is at this very moment wearing a hole in the floor of the waiting room down the hall." She smiled as she smoothed the warm blanket. "She's very unhappy with our hospital's policy of not allowing her to sit with you in Recovery."

Kirsten hadn't left him. He'd been stupid to think she would. She wasn't Dawn. How could he have been so ungrateful to believe she'd left?

"Hey, little bruddah." Micah put a hand on Ryan's shoulder. "Hang tight. Remembah?"

Ryan nodded and closed his eyes, unable to keep them open any longer. He couldn't go to sleep. He concentrated on the movement of the gurney and the noises around him. Doors swooshed and the lights were bright, even with his eyes closed.

The bed stopped and someone touched Ryan's shoulder. "Ryan, open your eyes for me," Dr. Jenkins ordered.

Ryan pulled his eyes open, squinting against the light.

"Kirsten apparently decided to work on the hole in the hallway floor." Dr. Jenkins snickered.

"How're you feeling, baby?" Kirsten smiled and took his hand, rubbing the backs of his fingers. She leaned down and kissed his forehead.

"Sorry," Ryan whispered.

"This wasn't your fault, Ryan. It's okay." Kirsten stroked his hair and smiled. "You're okay. That's the most important part."

_That_ wasn't what Ryan was sorry for, but he let it go. He was too tired. He sighed and closed his eyes.

The bed moved and stopped and moved again, but Kirsten's hand never let go of Ryan's until the last time the bed stopped. He was moved to another, softer bed. The rails snapped up and he pulled his eyes open, searching for Micah.

"Move -" Ryan winced. He tried to scoot over on the bed, causing the pain in his side to flare again.

"What'cha tryin' to do, little bruddah?" Micah cocked his head and frowned.

Ryan was afraid to go to sleep alone. The dream might come back. Maybe Trey was out of jail now. He'd find some way to blame getting arrested on Ryan.

Micah was waiting for an answer, but Ryan couldn't talk.

This was what Sandy would call the "arms of a dilemma." Ryan never bothered to tell Sandy that it was "horns" and not "arms." Just like he hadn't corrected Sandy at juvie when he'd said "cut from the same deck" instead of "cut from the same cloth." You'd think a Jewish guy from New York would know that one.

Ryan turned to Kirsten and patted the left side of the bed. He begged her with his eyes to understand what he wanted.

Kirsten smiled. "Can we move Ryan over on the bed just a little?" She gestured to her throat. "He's having a hard time talking."

Micah frowned. "I don't know tha's such a good idea, little bruddah. I don' think Dr. Jenkins like it too much."

"I think Ryan definitely has some pull with Dr. Jenkins." Kirsten winked at Ryan, who felt a wave of heat on the tops of his ears.

Micah grinned. "You got dat right." Gently, he moved Ryan over on the bed.

"Thank you, Micah." Kirsten lowered the rail.

Ryan flashed Micah a thumbs up, drawing another grin from the big man.

Kirsten settled next to Ryan on the bed, putting an arm around his shoulders. He put a hand on his right side and slowly turned toward her, resting his head on her shoulder.

"Be careful, baby." Kirsten stroked his hair and forehead. "You okay?"

Ryan nodded against her shoulder and swallowed. "Bad . . . dream."

Kirsten kissed the top of his head. "Not while I'm here."

Ryan's eyes drifted closed and he smiled. When he felt himself drifting to sleep this time, he let go. Kirsten wouldn't leave him. And she'd protect him from the crazy English people from television.

**10:30 a.m.**

After dropping Seth off at school, Sandy stopped by the office to take care of the few things he couldn't delegate, then headed to the hospital to relieve Kirsten. If he had anything to say about it, she wouldn't be coming back tonight.

When Seth woke up on Sunday evening, Sandy took him to the Crab Shack for lobster. Ryan had cut his shifts back to weekends when school started. The other waiters had been able to pick up extra shifts, especially since business was slow until the holidays. The manager assured both Sandy and Seth that Ryan's job would be waiting when he was ready to come back.

After dinner with Seth and some father-son bonding over video games, Sandy was in an exceptionally good mood as he stepped out of the elevator. The light at the end of the tunnel didn't hurt. By Thursday, Ryan would be home.

Sandy stopped by the nurses' station. "Morning, Ladies." He smiled. He didn't stop long enough to see their uncomfortable looks.

When Sandy opened the door to Ryan's room, he realized that the light at the end of the tunnel had been a freight train. Ryan was pale, the NG tube was back and there were several bags of fluids hanging above him.

Kirsten stood and put a finger to her lips, quietly walking to meet her husband at the door. She guided Sandy out of the room and carefully pulled the door closed.

Sandy regarded his wife with wide eyes and a bewildered expression. "What the . . .?"

"Ryan had another surgery last night. He's okay, though. No complications. Dr. Jenkins expects to be able to release him by Friday at the latest."

"And you couldn't find a phone?" Sandy's anger was obvious, even at a whisper.

"You and Seth were exhausted -"

"And you're not?"

Kirsten smiled. "Women are genetically conditioned for this." She frowned when her attempt at humor failed. "Ryan was out of surgery and in recovery in just over two hours and he was back in his room within three." She shrugged. "All you and Seth could have done was come down here and wait with me."

Sandy took a deep breath, counted to ten, then twenty. "That's the point of family, isn't it?"

"I'm sorry, Sandy. I made a bad executive decision." Kirsten rubbed his arm and kissed his cheek. "There won't be a next time, but if there is . . .," she whispered in his ear.

Sandy rested his forehead against his wife's. "Okay," he whispered, closing his eyes.

After a minute, Sandy leaned back. . "What happened? Did Ryan get sick? Fall?" His eyes widened. "This happened Saturday night?"

"From what Marie -"

Sandy frowned. "New nurse?"

Kirsten laughed. "Dr. Jenkins." She winked. "We're on a first name basis now." She paused. "From what Marie said, there was a small tear. She said something about adhesions keeping the tear from sealing itself."

"That's it. That's the last straw for me." Sandy threw his hands up. "I'm not gonna help that woman walk away from the charges for this."

"Sandy, you can't do that. You promised Ryan."

"Sometimes you have to break promises, Kirsten." Sandy pointed toward the door. "This is one of those times." His heart skipped a beat. "She could've killed him. She's lucky it's just a child abuse charge."

"Don't do this to him, Sandy." Kirsten's blue eyes narrowed. "Don't betray Ryan because of his mother. _That's_ what this would be." She took a deep breath and Sandy guessed she was counting to ten. "If I see that woman face-to-face, I'll happily strangle her with my bare hands. But Ryan's a kid and he doesn't want to see his mother in jail." She shrugged. "We can't make that decision for him."

Sandy hugged Kirsten. "All right. I'll keep my promise. For Ryan, not Dawn." He sighed. "But there are gonna be more conditions. She doesn't come near Ryan until she's sober and stays sober."

Kirsten smiled and kissed her husband. "No arguments from me, counselor."

"How's Ryan doing? Really?"

"Ryan's _really_ fine. The adhesions may have been why his side bothered him so much, so he shouldn't have much pain now that they're gone." Kirsten smiled. "He's been sleeping and when he's awake he's pretty cranky."

"I wish you'd called us. Ryan must've been scared to death. One surgery's bad enough."

"Marie calmed him down. She even asked his permission." Kirsten smiled.

"What?" Sandy's brow furrowed.

Kirsten shook her head and her smile broadened. "I think Marie has a little crush on Ryan, just like all of his nurses."

"He's a 16 year old kid. He rides a bike."

Kirsten shook her head. "You're such a man, Sandy," she teased.

Sandy nodded. "And damn proud of it."

"I'm going to let Ryan know I'm leaving." Kirsten opened the door. "I'll be back after dinner."

Sandy shook his head. "You promised to let me take the night shift tonight." He touched her cheek. "I hate to tell you this, babe, but you're not looking like your usual gorgeous self. Hang out with Seth tonight. Bond."

"Sandy, Seth's 16. How often did you wanna hang out with your mother when you were 16?"

"Okay, then take some 'Me Time'. Sleep. Get a facial. Go shopping. Beat up a contractor."

"I don't know, Sandy." Kirsten frowned.

"Kirsten, I can do all the nurturing stuff. You never let me."

Kirsten finally nodded. "All right. But you'll call if Ryan needs me?"

Sandy grinned. "There's not much chance he'll feel up to running around the hall with scissors or a sharp stick."

"That's not what I mean." Kirsten shrugged. "Never mind." She opened the door and stepped into the room.

Sandy shook his head and followed his wife into the room. Women always had to be so darned mysterious.

**4:10 p.m.**

Seth breezed into the house and headed straight for the kitchen. He deposited his backpack on the counter, opened the refrigerator and grabbed a bottle of juice. "How's it goin', Rosa?" He shook the bottle.

"Okay for a Monday. Were you at the hospital with Ryan? How is he? Your mom said he had to have surgery again."

Seth spilled juice down his chin and onto his shirt. "What?" He dropped the bottle onto the counter and it tipped over. He hit the doorway to the hall at a trot, with no idea where to go first.

"Seth, I'm sorry. Wait." Rosa was right behind him, but Seth ignored her.

Heart pounding in his ears, Seth went in search of his mother. She wasn't in the house and that meant she was in the poolhouse. Angry tears blurred his vision as he rushed through the kitchen and out the back door.

"Mom!" Seth sprinted around the pool and threw open the door of the poolhouse. Mom was putting clothes into a bag on Ryan's bed. "What happened to Ryan?"

His mother smiled at him. How could she smile at a time like this?

"Seth, what's wrong?" Mom frowned.

"Why don't you tell me?" Seth was frozen in the door. "Rosa said Ryan had surgery again."

Mom motioned to the bed. "Come sit down."

Seth crossed his arms. "What happened to Ryan?" His voice rose.

Mom dropped the shirt she was folding in the bag and came to him.

"Seth, Ryan was hurt Saturday night. We didn't know it."

Seth pulled away when his mother put an arm around him. "Dad took me to school like nothing was wrong."

"That's my fault. I didn't call your dad last night, so he didn't know. I should have called." Mom put an arm around his shoulders and didn't let him pull away this time. "There's nothing for you to worry about. In fact, I just talked to your dad and Ryan's doing fine now." She motioned toward the bed. "I was just packing some clothes for him." She patted his shoulder. "When I finish, you can take them to the hospital and visit him. Okay?"

Seth glared at her, finally managing to pull away. "You should've called," he said angrily, turning and leaving her in the poolhouse.

Seth went directly to his room, pulled his skateboard from under the bed and left the house.

**4:55 p.m.**

After stashing his skateboard under a bush, Seth entered the hospital and went directly to Ryan's room. He'd had no warning of what he'd find when he opened the door so he wasn't prepared for the sight of his friend lying pale and motionless on the bed with a tube in his nose.

Seth closed the door quietly, before his Dad noticed him. He was angry that his mother didn't tell them about Ryan last night. He was hurt that his dad didn't pick him up from school and bring him to the hospital this morning when he found out. Mostly, he was scared for Ryan. The only thing he remembered about his Grandma Nichol was that she never recovered from her second surgery.

Seth stepped out the side door of the hospital and sat heavily in the middle of the concrete stairs. He ran a shaking hand through his hair and took a deep breath. He wished he wasn't so mad at his mom, because he sure needed her right now.

When a large shadow fell over Seth, he guessed it was Micah. Or a freak eclipse.

"Wha'cha up to, bruddah?" Micah lowered himself to the risers behind Seth, effectively blocking entry or exit from the hospital. "Havin' a bad day, hey?"

"Oh, yeah." Seth blew out a breath and turned his body toward the giant. "Ryan had to have surgery again. That's really, really bad."

"Little bruddah doin' okay." Micah smiled. "He doin' better than okay. He got a good family."

Seth shook his head. "He doesn't look okay."

"It's not how ya look, bruddah." Micah tapped a meaty fist to his broad chest. "It's the spirit you got. Dat's what madda." He nodded. "Little bruddah got a big spirit on him."

"Do you like, see these spirits? Or are you speaking figuratively?" The words were out before Seth could stop them. He hoped Micah had a sense of humor. Or he was in big trouble. Literally.

The big man laughed and tapped a finger in the middle of Seth's chest. "It's the same wit' you. I bet you and little bruddah hit off - no problem."

Seth nodded. "Yeah, I guess we did." He cocked his head. "Okay, so I've got this other problem. Maybe you can help me out with it." He paused. "My mom didn't call us last night and she should've."

Micah shrugged. "Protectin' ya is your mamma's job. Dat's a big job dere."

"This should've been the _first_ place I checked." Mom stopped in front of Seth and put her hands on her hips.

"Hey, Mom." Seth waved.

Mom noticed Micah and smiled. "Hi, Micah."

Micah heaved up from the riser and nodded. "This one don't treat you right, you let Micah know." A large hand rested briefly on the top of Seth's head. "Jus' keep hanging tight, bruddah."

"Thanks, Micah." Mom watched the big man amble away. She sat next to Seth. "So, how long are you not speaking to me? After you answer the question, of course."

Seth nudged her side. "You're forgiven. Just don't do it again."

Mom nudged him back. "Ditto." She took the bag from her shoulder and handed it to Seth. "Your dad banned me tonight. Can you take these upstairs to Ryan?" She tousled his hair. "I think the pirate game found its way into the bag. Don't let your father see it." She winked.

Seth grinned broadly. "I'm gonna have some fun with the pirate game."

Mom kissed the top of his head and put an arm around him. "I love you, Seth."

Seth smiled at his mother. "Love you, too, Mom."

Lucky wasn't a word that came to mind when Seth was asked to describe himself. Until Casino Night, he would've said he was unlucky. He was lucky, though. His dad would never end up going to prison. His mom would never abandon him. And his brother would never get him arrested for stealing a car.

Since you don't get to pick your parents, Seth figured he was pretty lucky to have gotten the ones he was born to. They could be entirely too mushy with him. They were clueless most of the time. They were way too affectionate a lot of the time. They'd been too busy for him sometimes. Mom and Dad had always taken care of him, whether he was sick or well. They'd never hit him, or yelled at him too much. And when he needed them, they were always there.

Impulsively, Seth hugged his mother. "I love you, Mom."

Mom kissed his forehead. "I know. I love you, too."

**5:15 p.m.**

Seth paused at the door to Ryan's room. He drew in a deep breath, held it for a few seconds, then let it out. He had to be tough for Ryan. He couldn't do or say anything that would make him worse. That was a tall order, since this was pretty much Seth's fault. If he'd stopped Ryan's mother, Ryan would be better by now.

After another deep breath, Seth forced his hand to close on the handle and turn it.

Dad turned and smiled at Seth as he stepped into the room. He leaned forward and patted Ryan's knee. "Look who's here, Ryan."

Slowly, Ryan's head turned toward the door. "Hey," he whispered, the ghost of a smile on his face.

"Rosa told me you had another surgery last night." Seth glared pointedly at his father. "I would've been here sooner, but somebody left me at school."

"S'okay." Ryan swallowed. "Been asleep."

Dad stood. "I'll leave you boys to talk about stuff." He patted Ryan's shoulder. "Can I bring you anything?"

Ryan motioned to the NG tube, made a face, rolled his eyes and waved Dad away.

Dad chuckled. "You're gettin' way too good at that, Ryan."

Ryan grinned weakly.

Dad crossed the room, pausing to put a hand on Seth's shoulder. "I did what I thought was best for you, son."

Seth wanted to stay mad, but he couldn't. That's the trouble with parents who always kept your best interests at heart. It was too damn hard to hold a grudge when they did or didn't do something for your own good.

Seth nodded, glancing briefly at Ryan, whose birth family had never done that for him. He nodded again. "I know, Dad. We're okay."

When Dad kissed Seth's temple, he didn't complain. Once his dad was gone, Seth crossed to the chair and sat, resting the bag with Ryan's clothes between his feet.

"Ryan, man, I'm so sorry. This sucks . . .." Seth stopped himself. He couldn't tell Ryan anything he didn't already know.

Ryan swallowed. "Not . . . all . . .." He winced.

Seth stood and searched for the throat spray, but there wasn't any. "What can I do, Ryan? There's no spray." His eyes fell on the small styrofoam cup of ice. "How about some ice?"

Ryan gave him a thumbs up. He held up a finger and slowly lifted up onto his elbows.

"I guess you need me to . . . stupid, sorry." Seth shook his head and scooped ice onto the plastic spoon. He quickly put the cup down and helped Ryan lie back. He so wished he could do more. Like make the pain go away completely. Forever.

Ryan was so pale, it was scaring Seth.

Ryan swallowed and smiled weakly. "'Mokay, Seth."

Seth nodded. "Yeah, of course you are." He wished he believed it. Ryan didn't seem to be even remotely close to okay.

Ryan looked up at the ceiling. "I was . . . broken . . . before."

Seth's brow furrowed. "I'm not sure -"

"Inside." Ryan swallowed, then smiled. "'M gettin' . . . fixed." He lifted his fist, which was shaking.

Seth touched his knuckles to Ryan's. "I don't quite get it, but we'll talk later." He cocked his head. "You're lookin' kinda tired. Not that I want you to go to sleep 'cause I don't, like, wanna talk to you or hang out. But you need your rest, right, and I don't wanna keep you from gettin' that 'cause I really, really want you to get better."

Ryan nodded. "Summer?" He grinned and arched a brow at Seth.

Seth sat down in the chair, leaning toward the bed. "Funny you should mention Summer, Ryan." He forced a grin for Ryan's benefit. "Let me set the scene. Biology class. 3rd period. Lab day, so we've gotta work from the workbook. Only it's nothing with any potential, like dissection. Mostly plant stuff right now." His voice was shaking.

Ryan's eyes were closed. He'd probably already gone back to sleep. Which was good, because Seth didn't feel like going on about Biology class with Summer today. His heart just wasn't in it.

Seth let out a shaky breath and put his face in his hands.

"Seth."

Seth's head snapped up. "Ryan, I'm sorry -"

"Tell me . . . or . . .." Ryan swallowed. "Kick . . . your ass."

Seth's eyes widened. "I'm tellin' Mom."

Ryan shrugged. "Can't . . . sleep." The weak grin held a hint of mischief. "She'll . . . kick . . . your ass."

Seth laughed. "She probably will. Suck up."

The impish grin remained on Ryan's face. He had to be feeling better if he was teasing Seth and grinning like that.

"Where was I again?" Seth frowned.

"Biology . . . lab."

"Right." Seth nodded. "Summer left her workbook in her locker and the teacher wouldn't let her go get it. I was expecting one of Summer's rage blackouts, but it didn't happen." He paused. "She looked like a deer caught in headlights when she realized that she had to share with somebody. It was truly one of those priceless Master Card moments. You know, Biology workbook, twenty dollars. Master lock, six dollars. Summer's face when she realizes she has to share a workbook with one of the science geeks at school, priceless."

Ryan snickered, then yawned.

"Let me tell you, Ryan, there are slim and I do mean _slim_ pickings in that class. Even the girls are geeks."

"'Cept . . . you," Ryan muttered.

"It's AP Biology, Ryan. By definition, that makes me a geek. It's okay, though. I embrace my geekiness. It's the geeky guys that start the IT companies and become millionaires before they're 25 and they all have really, really, _hot_ wives. Of course, they're usually somewhere in their 30s or 40s before they have enough money to draw the really gorgeous babes. But, hey, gettin' married when you're older is usually better, anyway. With a good pre-nup, the marriage's bound to last forever." He paused. "Summer in AP Biology. I guess that makes her a geek, too. She probably just took it 'cause even a C'll look good on her transcript, though."

Ryan's eyes were closed and his chest slowly rose and fell. He was probably asleep for real this time, but Seth didn't stop his story. Ryan needed to rest and he couldn't do that without a good Summer story.

"Anyway, Summer finally stared daggers at Daria, the girl she was sitting at the lab table with. Daria beat a hasty retreat, then Summer fixed on me. She said, 'Cohen. Here.' So, of course, I joined her at the lab table, with my workbook, which I remembered to get from my locker before class."

Seth continued talking quietly until his Dad came back.


	9. Chapter 9

"It's a Mom Thing"

by Lisa O'Brien

Copyright September, 2003

**CHAPTER NINE**

**Tuesday, October 7**

**7:00 a.m.**

Sandy dragged himself into the office after spending the night with Ryan. He would've preferred to go home and get some sleep, but every time he delegated one project to one of the firm's other associates, or paralegals, three more he had to take care of himself cropped up.

Kirsten had relieved him at six that morning, two hours before visiting hours started. The nurses, however, weren't about to say a word about visiting hours to his wife.

Sandy dropped his briefcase in one of the visitor's chairs, turned the light on in his office and took his jacket off.

Lauren McCarthy, one of the paralegals, knocked on the frame of the door just as Sandy dropped into the chair behind his desk. "How's Ryan?" She was a transplant to California, like Sandy. She was from the South, but he couldn't remember where. She didn't sound Southern and looked as Irish as the McCarthys he'd grown up with in the Bronx.

Sandy shrugged. "Second surgery Sunday night."

"Oh, Sandy, I'm sorry. Is there anything I can do? Chauffer Seth? Chauffer you and Kirsten? Do y'all need food, with Kirsten gone?"

Sandy managed a half-hearted smile. "Thank you, Lauren." He hadn't been at the firm long, so he was touched by Lauren's offer. And the help he'd gotten from the other staff and associates. He probably wouldn't have had that luxury at the P.D.'s office.

"Hey, I've gotta keep those Seth-Ryan stories coming. And the Ryan-Seth stories." Lauren winked.

"Rosa's holding down the fort at home." Sandy shrugged. "We've been spending a lot of time at the hospital."

"If there's anything I can do, just ask. Okay?"

Sandy nodded.

"Don't take this the wrong way, Sandy, but you look exhausted. Why don't you go home and get some sleep?"

Sandy shook his head. "I've got to summarize the depositions I took with Joe week before last." He threw his hands up. "I meant to do it last week . . .."

"In the slip and fall? Madison, right? He's the one who went into the work area in the stadium? In spite of all the 'Do Not Enter' and 'Danger' signs?" Lauren held her hand out. "Give me your notes and let me take a crack at them. I know the case, since it's one of the files I'm working on with Joe. He's cool. He'll understand."

Sandy shook his head. "I can't ask -"

"I'm offering, Sandy. They're the plaintiff's doctors, right?" Lauren picked up a legal pad from the desk. She flipped the pages. "I can get a draft to Joe by this afternoon. Easy-peasy."

"I don't know why I'm even working on that case. Civil's not my thing."

Lauren grinned wickedly. "They're trying to lure you to the Dark Side." She winked. "Tom's just being a baby about sharing his criminal stuff. You've got a better record than he has."

Sandy sighed. "I guess it's a change of pace."

"And the stakes aren't as high. It's just money in civil." Lauren clutched the pad to her chest. "Go home, Sandy. You don't have any appearances -"

"Thank God." Sandy shook his head. "I guess I should go through my voicemail first."

"You look like you could use a cup of coffee. Or a vat of coffee. How do you take it?"

Sandy waved. "I'll get it."

"Offering, here." Lauren arched a brow at him.

Sandy chuckled and threw up his hands. "If you insist. Black, please."

Lauren nodded and left the office.

Sandy pulled out the phone instructions and followed them step-by-step. He couldn't remember the right buttons and ended up taking three tries without them. The first two messages were from Rachel, asking about Ryan. That was nice of her. The third one made him shiver.

"Sandy, it's Dave Rubin. It's Monday, about 12:30 in the afternoon. I tried to meet with Dawn Atwood this morning, but she rejected me. Sorry, pal. She wants to go with a court-appointed lawyer. She can't make bail and the D.A.'s set the arraignment for later this week. Call me on my cell as soon as you get this message."

Sandy slammed the handset into the cradle. Then picked it up and slammed it again. It didn't help.

Lauren was frowning at him from the door. "Is it safe to come in?"

Sandy sighed. "Yeah. Sorry."

Lauren set the coffee on the desk. "Is Ryan okay? Do you need to get back to the hospital?"

Sandy shook his head. "No. That wasn't about Ryan." He ran a hand through his thick, black hair. "Well, not directly. It was about his mother. She's in jail and I promised Ryan I'd help her, but she won't take it." He threw his hands up. "I can't break my promise to him, but the stupid . . .." He snarled. "It's very, very complicated." He may have said too much.

Lauren nodded. "I get that." She paused. "I'm guessing the reason she's in jail has something to do with Ryan."

Sandy nodded.

Lauren quietly closed the door and sat in the empty chair. "Have you talked to her?"

"No. I don't want to." Sandy was surprised that Lauren wasn't asking for details.

"It sounds like the proverbial rock and the hard place. You can't break your promise to Ryan. But you can't keep it because his mother won't let you." Lauren snapped her fingers. "We could send one of the baby lawyers down without using your name. Chip has a good relationship with the D.A.'s office. He can say he's been hired by an anonymous party."

Sandy shook his head. "I don't want to get anybody from the firm involved in this."

"I didn't think of that. Yeah, could be bad. Chip doesn't have the sense God gave a goose and he doesn't listen, or play well with others."

In spite of the dilemma, the comment made Sandy laugh. He hadn't been as creative with his opinion of the young associate. Lauren had hit the pin on the head.

Lauren grinned. "And he's a stress carrier," she added, then stood. "Well, that's my only idea. Sorry."

Sandy smiled half-heartedly. "Hey, you're doing better than I am here."

Lauren pulled open the door. "It looks like the only plan is to talk some sense into Ryan's mother."

"Thanks, Lauren. For the advice. And for not asking too many questions."

Lauren smiled. "If it was my business, you'd tell me." Silently, she left the office.

Sandy leaned back in the chair and covered his eyes. He'd made a promise to Ryan and he had to do everything in his power to keep it. If the kid was ever going to trust them, they had to prove to him that they weren't like his parents.

**9:00 a.m.**

Sandy signed in at the women's facility as Dawn's attorney and asked the guard not to use his name. Ethically, he shouldn't have done that, but it was the only way to assure that Ryan's mother wouldn't reject his visit, too.

Sandy was relieved to find that even attorneys had to make unscheduled visits from behind a barrier. He wondered if Dawn would ever know just how lucky she was. Kirsten would've found a way over or around the barrier.

When Dawn entered and saw Sandy, she froze, turning to the C.O. and shaking her head. The tall, muscular woman urged Dawn to take the visit.

Dawn glared at Sandy as they picked up the handsets on their respective phones. "I'm not signing anything. I'm not giving him up. Forget it." Her eyes narrowed. "That's what you sent that other guy for, isn't it?"

Sandy gritted his teeth. "I sent Dave Rubin to help you, Dawn. The only reason I did it was because Ryan asked me to and I promised him I would."

Tears welled in Dawn's eyes and Sandy had to fight a wave of nausea. She wasn't crying for Ryan. She was crying for herself.

"How is he?" Dawn asked finally.

"Oh, let's see, not so good right now. Ryan had internal bleeding and was rushed to emergency surgery Sunday night. When I left this morning, he was still asleep and he had a tube up his nose." Sandy glared. "I spent the day with him yesterday. His throat hurt and he could barely talk."

Dawn put a hand to her mouth. "What happened?"

"You, Dawn," Sandy spat. "You pulled Ryan out of bed and he fell. That ripped the internal stitches out. The stitches in his left hand should come out in about a week and there's gonna be a scar. But it'll be small. No big deal, right?"

Dawn shook her head. "Stop."

Sandy took a breath and counted to ten. It didn't help. "Why? I'm beginning to wonder if hurting Ryan is some kind of hobby for you. 'Cause you've been doin' it most of his life. And lettin' people like A.J. and Trey do it for you."

Dawn sobbed and shook her head. "That's not -"

"You just won't see it, Dawn. The bitch for Ryan is that he still loves you. You're still his mother. He asked me to help you and you didn't even have the sense to take the help I offered." Sandy took another deep breath. He was starting to try to find a way around the barrier himself.

The goal, however, was to make Dawn see reason. Sandy had to fight to keep the anger out of his voice. "Dawn, you can't keep doing this to Ryan. If you're not puttin' him through the emotional ringer, you're doin' it physically." He paused. "One of these days, he's not gonna come out in one piece."

"I love Ryan, I do."

"Then show it. Get help. Get sober and stay sober," Sandy ordered. "Find something that makes you happy and do it."

Dawn nodded.

"I can't force you to accept Dave Rubin, but he's a helluva lot better than some of the P.D.s you might get."

Dawn sniffled. "Okay." She dropped her eyes, then raised them again. "Can I see him?"

Sandy shook his head. "No. Kirsten and I didn't want to make the decision, but . . . what you did to Ryan . . . we're not taking any more chances. He almost didn't come out in one piece emotionally, or physically on this one. We could've lost him and we're not gonna let that happen."

The tears were gone and Dawn glared. "I'll get a lawyer when I get out of here. We'll see what a judge says. We'll see what Ryan has to say, won't we?" She smiled smugly. "I'll always be his mother. He loves me."

Sandy laughed and nodded. "You go ahead and do that, Dawn. I'm sure a judge will be very interested to read the reports from Saturday night and I'm sure Ryan's doctor will be happy to testify about his injuries." He paused. "I'll bet the nurses' testimony will be interesting. Or the orderly that had to sit with Ryan until my wife got there. Oh, and there are my son and Marissa. Remember, the kids you terrified when you attacked your son?"

Dawn's mouth opened and closed. She didn't have an answer for that one.

Sandy raised his ample brows. "Gee, I guess that's not sounding like such a good plan for you after all, is it, Dawn?" He shrugged. "I'll have Dave come back to the jail. You can see him, or not see him. I'm washing my hands of you." He placed the handset on the cradle, rose and walked away from the cubicle.

Now he had to let Ryan know about his mother's refusal. And hope the kid didn't feel so betrayed that he'd never trust Sandy again.

**11:30 a.m.**

Sandy didn't go directly to the hospital from the jail. It took some time of aimless driving to work up the courage to face Ryan and break his promise. He'd thought he was ready, but when he pulled into the parking lot, he still couldn't face the boy. So he sat on a bench in the lobby, watching visitors come and go.

When Sandy finally ventured to Ryan's room, he was pleasantly surprised to find him sitting up in bed reading from a history book. The NG tube was gone, as were most of the bags on the I.V. Kirsten was on the couch, reading over contracts.

"Doing homework? How industrious." Sandy mustered a smile.

"Gotta keep up." Ryan grinned. "You okay, Sandy?" His brow furrowed.

"Yeah, fine." Sandy paused at the bed to squeeze Ryan's shoulder, proceeding to the couch to kiss his wife's cheek.

Kirsten grinned. "Ah, I see where I rate." Her eyes narrowed. "Sandy?"

Sandy stroked his wife's blond hair. "Babe, I need to talk to Ryan. In private. It might be a while and it might not."

"Did something happen to Dawn?" Ryan's voice was flat.

Sandy's brow furrowed at Ryan's use of his mother's first name, but he didn't pry. "No, nothing like that."

Kirsten sighed and nodded, picking up the contracts. "Okay. I need to get these to the office. Call me." She went to the bed and kissed Ryan's forehead. "Get some rest. And no skipping lunch today."

"It's hospital food." Ryan's nose wrinkled. He rolled his eyes. "Yes, ma'am."

Kirsten smoothed Ryan's hair, leaving and pulling the door closed behind her.

Sandy sat heavily in the chair. He leaned forward and clasped his hands.

"Seth did that yesterday 'cause he was worried about me. And he felt guilty." Ryan paused. "If I've suddenly got some rare disease, I'll bet it's the nurses." He closed the book. "But Kirsten would be the first to know there, so it can't be that." The blue eyes narrowed. "That leaves Dawn."

"Ryan, I called a friend of mine, Dave Rubin. He's not with the P.D.'s office, but he's very good. Your mother refused to see him." Sandy ran a hand through his hair. "I'm sorry, kid. I know I promised -"

Ryan shrugged. "Hey, you tried. Haven't you Cohens ever heard of 'A for effort'?" He leaned back and focused on something above his head. "She's on her own, I guess."

"I, ah . . . tried going to see her." Sandy sighed. "Unfortunately, that didn't go very well. I ended up losing my temper instead of reasoning with her."

"Maybe that's what she needs." Ryan finally lowered his head and focused on Sandy. "I shouldn't have asked you to help her. I know that's not what you and Kirsten want." He sighed. "And it wasn't just me, this time. She could've hurt Seth, too."

"Which isn't your fault, Ryan," Sandy assured quietly. "Taking responsibility is one thing, but you don't own the stuff other people do. You're not all knowing, all seeing and all powerful. And you don't control anybody but yourself."

"Who says? Hey, Seth and I are working on world domination." Ryan grinned and his blue eyes lit up. "We already control you and Kirsten."

For the first time that day, Sandy's laugh was genuine. The burden was lifted from his shoulders and it felt good. "Or are we just letting you boys _think_ you control us?" He waggled his ample brows at the boy.

Ryan laughed. Without warning, his eyes narrowed and he turned his head to sneeze. When he turned back and looked at his hand, there was a drop of blood on it. A slow trickle inched out onto his upper lip. "Cwap." He held his right side and leaned over to the table for a tissue.

Sandy stood, suddenly feeling that burden again. Another freight train was heading straight for him and he was nailed to the tracks. "I'll call the nurse."

"No, id's okay. Sdupid dube." Ryan tilted his head back and held the tissue on his upper lip. "Id'll sdop."

"Ryan, blood coming from anywhere is never good." Sandy pressed the call button.

"Yes."

"Ryan's nose is bleeding." Sandy regretted sending Kirsten away. She'd know what the Hell to do.

Therese bustled into the room. "Again, Ryan?"

"I sdneezed." Ryan held up a hand. "Id's sdopping."

Therese disappeared into the bathroom and returned with a washcloth, which she placed on the back of Ryan's neck.

"Is something wrong? What happened?" Sandy asked anxiously.

"Ryan's been on O2 quite a bit and the NG tube doesn't help. Taking the tube out this morning didn't help, either." Therese patted Ryan's shoulder. "And I suspect that Ryan might have a deviated septum."

"Sdupid dube," Ryan muttered. "Waid'll sdpring whed my siduses acdt up"

"An ENT could fix that, Ryan." Sandy shrugged. "It's not _that _bad. I had it done a few years ago."

Ryan turned his head slightly and narrowed his left eye. "You paid domebody for dat nodse?"

"Doctors can only do so much, kid," Sandy growled. "And I don't think we'd find any wanna be pictures of your nose in any plastic surgeon's office." He instantly regretted the dig.

"Id wadn't perfect whend I wad bornd, but breakin' id twice din'd help."

Sandy squeezed Ryan's shoulder. "I shouldn't have -"

Ryan cut him off with a wave of his hand. "Id's okay. Good burdn."

"Let's see, Ryan." Therese carefully removed the tissue. "How about some nasal spray? It'll help."

"Ads Dsummer would say 'Ewwww'." Ryan shook his head. "Cadn I ged dsome wader?"

Therese filled a cup, then held a bowl under Ryan's chin. He took a sip, rolled his eyes, then spit into the bowl. Therese removed the washcloth and disappeared into the bathroom with it and the bowl.

Ryan turned his head, quickly blew into the tissue and wadded it up before Sandy could see. The boy shivered and dropped the tissue into the small can on the floor. "That sucks."

Therese returned with the kidney shaped bowl, which she placed back on the table next to Ryan. "Call me if you need anything else." She patted his shoulder before departing.

"We'll get it fixed."

"Elective surgery? On my face? After this? No. Nuhn-uh. No way." Ryan shivered again.

Sandy laughed at the boy's unconscious imitation of Kirsten. "We'll discuss it when spring comes."

"Answer won't change," Ryan replied stubbornly. He regarded Sandy as the man sat in the chair. "I fell down and ran into things. A lot."

Sandy frowned.

Ryan pointed to his nose. "Especially after A.J. moved in with us." He sighed. "Trey actually broke it the first time. He didn't mean to. We were roughhousing and I landed on my face."

"Ryan, you don't -"

"Yeah, I do. I didn't want you guys to know. I knew you'd suspect, after meeting Dawn. And you'd probably seen it in the P.D.'s office. But Kirsten and Seth . . .." Ryan shrugged. "It's probably something they think doesn't happen in real life."

"Don't sell Kirsten short. She was sheltered as a kid, but she worked with battered women in college. She's still involved with several shelters, especially up in L.A. and the Bay Area." Sandy gestured helplessly. "Seth's been sheltered from it, but he knows it exists."

"It's part of why I'm the way I am." The ceiling was suddenly very interesting again. "It's why it was so hard for me to quit fighting."

"We know." Sandy squeezed the boy's shoulder.

Ryan turned to Sandy. "Was it like . . . with your mother?" He waved a hand. "None of my business. Never mind."

"No, you trusted me with something. It's my turn." Sandy regarded his hands for a minute. He took a breath. "My dad left when I was young. Mamma had to support us, which isn't easy when you're an immigrant with very little education and no skills." He smiled. "She worked hard and she worked a lot. But we were together and that was the most important thing to her. The problems between us didn't start until I got older and started making my own plans for the future." He paused, lost in thought. "Mamma wanted me to be a rabbi, a cantor, or a doctor. I wanted to be a lawyer. And she was old fashioned, so she was the mother and I'd have to do what she said." He shrugged. "I made a lot of really dumb decisions, mostly out of frustration. And Mamma was more embarrassed than angry with me. Like I said, she was old fashioned, so everything I did reflected on her in the community."

"Is she still, you know, around?"

Sandy smiled. "Living in Florida, with a lot of nice, older Jewish ladies. She was about as fond of Kirsten as Caleb was of me." He shrugged. "Mamma wanted me to settle down with a nice Jewish girl and give her grandsons that would be a rabbi, a cantor and a doctor."

"Seth wants to be an IT wizard." Ryan smiled. "At least, this week. That could change."

"That's what being young is for, Ryan. What about you?"

"17. Remember, I don't wanna commit to anything too soon." Ryan winked.

Sandy snickered. "You're aiming way too low."

"Keep your expectations low. That way, you're never disappointed." Ryan sighed. "So, did you eventually get your head on straight?"

"No, I got busted. Some friends and I stole a hot dog cart. My lawyer got the charges lowered and I got probation. He gave me a job in his office, so I had some place to be and a paycheck to keep me out of trouble. He helped me get into college and then law school." Sandy held up his hands. "The rest, as they say, is history."

"So, this is repaying a debt? What do they call it? Paying it forward?" Ryan's expression was neutral, but there was pain in his blue eyes.

Sandy shook his head. "If that's all it was, I could've paid it forward 15 years ago. Or 10. There were plenty of troubled kids running across my desk every day." His voice shook. "I did it because out of all the kids I'd seen, there was something special about you, Ryan. Maybe it was the SAT score. Or the way you recited the stuff you'd read about Social Security and life expectancy. Sure, that was different from most of the kids." He took a deep breath. "The difference with you was that I saw myself in your eyes. Literally. You didn't want to steal that car any more than I wanted to steal Mr. Kraus' hot dog cart. And even though you were playing it tough, you were hurting, too. And you were scared."

Ryan turned his head away and wiped his eyes. "Not one of my best days, was it?" Slowly, he turned his head back toward Sandy.

Sandy stood and sat on the bed. "You earned a break, kid. You deserved it." He put a hand on Ryan's arm. "Your life isn't the only one to change."

Ryan nodded. "Yeah, Kirsten told me."

"Then I'll tell you again. Kirsten and I didn't know Seth. We were probably not that far away from losing him. He wasn't happy." Sandy took a deep breath. "And Kirsten and I didn't know each other anymore. Why do you think she was so mad at me for bringing you home that first night?" He shrugged. "I thought it would be no problem for her. Well . . . okay, I wasn't so sure about that, but the fact is that the Kirsten I married wouldn't have had a problem with it."

Ryan turned his head away.

"Don't worry so much about whether or not you belong. Quit worrying about trying to fit in." Sandy squeezed the boy's arm. "Just be Ryan and find yourself a dream and go for it."

Ryan finally turned back to Sandy and nodded. After a shuddering breath, he cocked his head. "I've . . . ah . . . got some stuff to figure out." Another shuddering breath. "Do you think I could get the rest of the afternoon and tonight by myself? I appreciate you and Kirsten staying with me. It's not that I don't appreciate it. I do." He sighed. "I _really_ do. But I'm not used to it. Still."

Sandy nodded. "Consider it done."

"I don't want to hurt Kirsten's feelings, or yours. It's not that. I just have to figure stuff out alone."

Sandy tousled Ryan's hair. "Seth's rubbing off on you."

Ryan gave him a wavering grin. "For a while there, I thought I was gonna end up talking like Frankenstein or Tarzan."

Sandy frowned, but Ryan waved the statement off without explanation.

"Tell Seth I'm takin' some 'Me Time'. He won't like it, but he'll respect it."

Sandy nodded and kissed the top of Ryan's head.

"Sorry I put you on the spot, Sandy."

"What telling Kirsten and Seth?" Sandy shook his head and with a wave of his hand dismissed the boy's worries. "Ahh, no problem."

"No, asking you why." Ryan sighed. "I should've -"

"I'm glad you finally asked. It gave me a chance to repeat what I said when we met." Sandy winked. "You needed to hear it and, this time, I think you did."

"Yeah. Loud and clear."

Sandy kissed the top of Ryan's head again. "Call if you need us."

Ryan nodded. "I think I know the numbers by now."

"Burn!" Sandy grinned. He went to the door and opened it.

"Sandy," Ryan called.

Sandy stepped back into the room, holding the door open.

"Thanks. For everything."

"Ditto." Sandy winked and left the room, closing the door behind him.


	10. Chapter 10

See Chapters 1, 4, 7, 8 and 9 for Disclaimers

"It's a Mom Thing"

by Lisa O'Brien

Copyright September, 2003

**CHAPTER TEN**

**Wednesday, October 8**

**8:30 a.m.**

Ryan turned toward the door as it opened.

"Good morning, Ryan." Dr. Jenkins pulled his chart from the wall and flipped through it as she approached the bed. There were a few "ohs" and an "ah-ha" or two. Finally, she closed the chart and cocked it against her hip. "Diana reported that you had a restless night. Were you in pain? Not feeling well?" She glanced around the room. "And where's Kirsten?"

"Home. I gave her and Sandy the night off." Ryan shrugged. "Just figuring some stuff out."

"I see." The doctor raised an eyebrow.

"Do you want me to call her?"

Dr. Jenkins shook her head. "No, let her have a lie in this morning. Which is what you should be doing." She paused. "You still need your rest, Ryan."

"Dr. Jenkins, I've slept more hours this week than I ever have." Ryan shrugged helplessly. "I wasn't tired."

Dr. Jenkins smiled and stroked Ryan's hair. "I'll leave an order for something to help you sleep with the nurses. If you're not tired tonight, take advantage of it. All right?"

Ryan nodded, although he probably wouldn't.

The doctor set the chart on the chair behind her. "Let's have a look, shall we?" She lifted the gown and checked the dressing and the incision. When she was done with that, she checked the stitches on his hand. "Have you had any pain in your abdomen?"

"A little, if I move wrong. But not as much as . . . before."

Dr. Jenkins nodded. "Good." She smiled. "Your lungs are clear and your labs are normal. You've finished the antibiotics and you're temp's normal." Her smiled broadened. "Everything looks exceptionally good, Ryan. And I've got some good news for you."

"I get to go home?" Ryan asked hopefully.

"Not just yet." Dr. Jenkins chuckled. "How does Friday sound?"

"Not as good as today." Ryan grinned. "But it's better than Saturday, I guess."

Dr. Jenkins laughed. "The good news is that you won't be needing that I.V. anymore. And you'll be getting some real food today. No more clear diet."

Ryan cocked his head. "I still like going home better."

Dr. Jenkins tousled his hair. "Small steps, Ryan." She winked. "I'll send someone in to take care of that I.V. and I'll be by to check on you later. Get some rest."

"Thanks." Ryan nodded.

Dr. Jenkins picked up the chart, placing it in the holder before stepping out of the room.

**3:15 p.m.**

Mom let Seth take the Range Rover to school so he could go straight to the hospital. He'd been disappointed that Ryan hadn't wanted him to visit on Tuesday, but Ryan had been right. He'd respected the request. He'd respect it this afternoon if Ryan was still figuring stuff out.

Seth was a little worried. He wondered if Ryan wanted to leave Newport Beach. Seth would understand if Ryan wanted to go to Austin. The farther away from his mother, the better. She'd always be able to find him at the Cohens'. Unless they moved. Which probably wasn't an option.

Seth didn't want Ryan to leave. He'd really miss him. Then again, he'd never been to Austin. Or Texas, for that matter.

"Seth!" Marissa's voice called from behind him. "C'mon, Summer."

"Oh, no, Coop. Not again."

Seth stopped and turned as Marissa walked quickly toward him, with Summer trotting to catch up to her long-legged friend. "Hey, Marissa. I'm just heading over to visit Ryan. Wanna come with?" He smiled at the tiny, dark haired girl of his dreams. "Hey, Summer."

Summer rolled his eyes. "Coop, I thought we were going to the mall this afternoon."

"We can do that. After we visit Ryan." Marissa regarded Seth. "How's Ryan doing, Seth? Really?"

"Pretty good." Seth shrugged. "Considering." He shrugged again, at a rare loss for words.

"See, Chino's fine, Coop. I wanna go to the mall," Summer whined and stamped her foot.

"Gee, I'd love to stand here all day, but visiting hours end at 8:00." Seth turned and walked toward the parking lot. "Have fun at the mall, Summer."

Marissa fell into step beside him, with Summer whining and bringing up the rear.

"Summer, you can go to the mall by yourself. I'll meet you there." Marissa turned back to her friend. "Seth'll drop me off, won't you?"

Summer stopped. "Luke's ready to take us to the mall now." She crossed her arms.

"Have fun with Luke and his buddies, then, Sum," Marissa threw over her shoulder.

Seth unlocked the passenger door before stepping around to the driver's side.

"Fine, Coop. We'll visit Chino and then go to the mall." Summer joined them at the SUV. "I hate hospitals. Ewww!" She stamped her foot.

Seth laughed. "Ryan had appendicitis, Summer. It's not contagious."

"Still, ewwww."

"Why don't you sit up front, Sum?" Marissa unlocked the rear passenger door. "There's more leg room for me in back."

Summer rolled her eyes before climbing into the front seat. She fixed her glare on Seth. "If I catch anything, Cohen, I'm holding you personally responsible." She slammed the door. "And _try_ not to drive like an old lady, this time."

"Try not to break the axle, Summer." Seth started the engine, checked for traffic behind him, then backed out.

**3:45 p.m.**

Ryan gave up on solutions to the dilemmas that followed him from his old life and the ones that cropped up in his new one. Maybe the only solution was to figure them out as they came up. "Crossing that road" when he came to it, as Sandy would probably say.

Getting rid of the I.V. and being able to take a real shower had done wonders for Ryan's mood and his outlook. It had been embarrassing having an aide stand in the bathroom with him, but even that was mild compared to the indignity of being bathed. That small step toward normal had done wonders. As had being able to get rid of the hospital gown and wear real clothes.

Ryan heard the door open, but never looked up from _Great Expectations_. He was enjoying the story, in spite of the fact that it was technically something he had to read for school.

"Hey, Ryan."

Ryan's head snapped up at the sound of Marissa's voice. He smiled. "Hey."

"Look who I ran into after school," Seth announced as Summer followed him into the room.

Ryan waved absently, never taking his eyes off Marissa, who'd stopped next to the bed. He heard Seth settle into the chair.

"How're you doing?" Marissa put a hand on his shoulder and squeezed it.

Ryan smiled and nodded. "I'm . . . good." He raised his right hand. "Look, no more I.V. and real clothes instead of a gown." He frowned. "How're you? Sorry . . . about . . . I -"

Marissa smiled. "Me, too."

"Yeah, hey, Chino. How you doin'?" Summer put a hand on his shin.

"Owww! Summer, don't do that!" Ryan exclaimed, fighting the urge to grin as the wide-eyed girl backed away from the bed.

"Ryan . . . I'm, like, sorry . . . I didn't." Summer's eyes narrowed and she glared as Ryan's grin broke. "That was, like, sooo lame, Chino." She rolled her eyes.

Ryan's grin broadened. "Not as lame as fallin' for it, Summer."

The girl's dark eyes rolled again. "Like, what-ev-er, Chino."

Ryan waggled his eyebrows at Marissa, who laughed. The warm feeling from the other night's dream was back in his chest. It would spread if he kept looking at Marissa, so he tore his eyes away and leaned around her. "Yo, Seth. Thanks for stopping by."

Seth held up his hands. "It's Newport Beach, dude. Not a lot of stuff to do, you know?"

"There's, like, nothing to eat or drink in this place, Chino," Summer complained. "Boring."

Seth cocked his head back. "Summer, it's a hospital room, not a hotel room. Hence the lack of a mini-bar."

Summer shot a withering glare at the back of Seth's head.

"We could go down to the cafeteria." Ryan looked at Marissa. "If you want . . .."

Marissa nodded. "Sounds like a plan."

"Cool." Ryan lowered the bed, then sat up, carefully turned to the side and dropped his legs over the side. "Can you hand me that robe, Seth?"

"You cold? If you don't feel up to it, we can pick something up and bring it back." Seth was frowning.

Ryan chuckled. "Stupid rule. I'm s'posed to wear the robe, guess so I can't make a break for it now that I'm not in one of those dumb gowns."

"Ah, kind'a like a scarlet letter, huh?" Seth got the robe from the door and brought it back to Ryan.

Marissa helped Ryan get the robe over his right arm.

"Now or never," Ryan muttered, biting his lip and lowering his feet to the floor. He pushed his feet into the slippers Kirsten had sent with his clothes. They weren't his style, but he couldn't bend over to put on his boots or tennis shoes.

"Are you sure about this, Ryan?" Marissa sounded worried.

"Yeah, I was just down there this morning. No problem." Ryan smiled to reassure her.

"Vamanos, Chino." Summer put her hands on her hip as she waited impatiently by the door.

Ryan took a deep breath and nodded, flashing a smile at Marissa. "You heard the girl. Vamanos."

Unconsciously, Ryan put a hand over his right side as the four teens stepped out into the hall. Seth and Marissa were at least taking his slower gait into consideration.

Debbie caught them heading toward the elevators. "Where do you think you're going, young man?"

Ryan, Seth and Marissa froze as Debbie crossed her arms.

Ryan glanced guiltily at Seth and Marissa. "We're busted," he muttered. He turned his attention to the nurse. "Just down to the cafeteria. Kathy took me down there this morning."

Debbie shook her head, glancing behind her, then to the left and right. "I don't see Kathy here, Ryan." She held up a finger. "Wait right there." She disappeared around a corner.

"Wish I could move faster, guys." Ryan shrugged.

Summer returned from the elevator. "What's the hold-up?"

"A nurse busted us," Seth informed. "Ryan's hold on them is obviously slipping now that he's not all helpless."

Marissa covered her mouth and snickered as Ryan blushed.

"Bite me, Seth," Ryan muttered.

Debbie returned, pushing an empty wheelchair. "Here you go, Ryan." She locked the wheels.

"Aww, Debbie." Ryan tried a helpless look, which failed.

"My way, or the highway, Ryan." Debbie smiled and patted the seat.

Ryan rolled his eyes and sat in the chair.

"No wheelies. No stairs," Debbie teased as she unlocked the wheels. "And make sure to lock the wheels getting in or out." She patted Ryan's shoulder, then tousled his chair. "Have fun."

Ryan put both hands on the rail outside the wheels, intending to roll forward. His right hand slipped and he drifted to the right.

"I'll drive, Ryan." Marissa smiled and stepped behind the chair.

Seth went ahead with Summer, who was waiting at the elevator, arms crossed and foot tapping. As Marissa pushed the chair toward them, Ryan tilted his head back.

"I could get used to this." Ryan grinned.

"But you wouldn't." Marissa laughed. "You're not ditching the chair, by the way."

"Slow down, Marissa," Ryan ordered. "I wanna see one of Summer's rage blackouts." He pointed toward the impatient girl. "She looks like she's ready to blow."

Marissa laughed again. "Not if you're on the receiving end," she warned.

"Yeah, probably not such a good plan, huh?" Ryan reached back and patted Marissa's hand. "Speed it up, Marissa."

"Bossy. You must be feeling better." Marissa smiled down at Ryan.

**6:10 p.m.**

The cafeteria turned out to be a better place for a visit than Ryan's room. The teens had an unlimited supply of sodas, candy, chips and assorted junk foods. They even had some privacy at a table in the back of the dining area. Even Summer seemed to be enjoying herself. She only mentioned the mall once.

Seth was trying to fill Ryan in on all the gossip from school and the neighborhood. The pieces of popcorn hitting him in the head weren't making it easy. One hit him in the eye. "Okay, Ryan, you think I don't see you doing that . . .." Seth picked up a handful of popcorn and hummed it at Ryan.

Ryan laughed and ducked, avoiding the shower. He held his hands up when he straightened, his face the picture of innocence. "I'm not doing anything, Seth." He gestured toward the bag of popcorn, which was out of his reach. He winced and grabbed his side. "See, no ammunition?"

Marissa and Summer giggled. Seth couldn't figure out how Ryan was doing it, but he bet the girls knew.

Seth nodded. "Okay, just cut it out, Ryan." He tapped the table. "What else has been going on?" He turned to Marissa and Summer.

"Ms. O'Connor caught Merlin and some skank freshman doing it in the girl's bathroom Friday," Summer offered. "Ewww."

"Yeah, for Ms. O'Connor." Marissa laughed.

A kernel hit the bridge of Seth's nose.

"That's it." Seth got up from the chair and rushed Ryan, who was still in the wheelchair.

Ryan laughed and tried to turn, but couldn't maneuver around the table's legs.

Seth pulled the chair out to find a napkin full of popcorn in Ryan's lap. "I knew it!"

"No, no, no." Ryan laughed as he tried keep Seth from getting the napkin.

"What's going on here?" Dr. Jenkins' voice demanded from behind them.

Seth turned, taking the chair around with him. "Dr. Jenkins, hi. Seth, Seth Cohen." He stepped forward and held out his hand.

"You boys should know better than to roughhouse." Dr. Jenkins was biting the inside of her cheek to keep from smiling. "Ryan, you haven't been eating any of that junk food, have you?"

Ryan smiled shyly, lifting a kernel of popcorn. "Nah, just throwing it at Seth." He tossed the kernel over his shoulder, nailing Seth in the nose.

Dr. Jenkins snickered. "No harm in that, I suppose." She winked at Ryan. "Don't keep Ryan too long, kids. It's after six and he still needs to rest."

Seth snatched the napkin from Ryan's lap, wadded it up and dumped it in a nearby trashcan. Once he'd moved the rest of the popcorn way out of Ryan's reach, he pushed the wheelchair back to the table.

As Seth sat in his chair, he caught Ryan motioning for Marissa to hand him a bag of potato chips. He intercepted them before she could give Ryan any more ammo.

"Come on, Seth, it was funny." Ryan laughed.

"We almost got in trouble," Seth argued.

"What're they gonna do, kick me out? I like that idea." Ryan motioned with his hand. "Gimme, Seth." He laughed.

Seth took a deep breath, then slid the bag across the table. "Throw 'em at Summer," he ordered.

Summer pointed an index finger at Ryan. "Don't even think about it, Chino."

Ryan held up his hands and left the bag on the table.

Summer stood. "I gotta pee. C'mon, Coop."

"Thanks for sharing, Summer." Ryan grinned.

Summer rolled her eyes and trounced off toward the restrooms.

"We'll be right back," Marissa promised, following her friend.

Ryan picked up his cup of soda and took a sip. "So, how'd you get Summer to come along?"

Seth grinned. "Where Marissa goes, Summer usually follows." He shrugged. "I've gotta take 'em to the mall when we leave."

"Ouch." Ryan put the cup down. "Sorry about yesterday. Did your Dad tell you about his visit with Dawn?"

Seth whistled. "Yeah, he used a lot of four letter words to do it, too." He blushed. "Sorry."

Ryan shook his head. "Can't say I blame him."

Seth cocked his head. "So, you figure everything out?"

Ryan sighed. "Not really." He shrugged. "I guess I'll just figure it out as I go along."

"You're not goin' to Austin?" Seth asked quietly.

Ryan frowned. "Where'd you get that idea?" He laughed. "That was the plan when I was going into foster care, Seth. It'd be stupid for me to bail now."

Seth let out an explosive sigh. "Man, you don't know how glad I am to hear that." He shrugged. "With everything that happened . . . with your mom."

Ryan's expression hardened. "I'm not lettin' Dawn ruin things for me, Seth. Never. Again."

"We leave for, like, two minutes and you go all broody, Chino." Summer sat down at the table. "What's up with that?"

"Summer!" Marissa put a hand on Ryan's shoulder. "Are you feeling okay, Ryan? Do you need to go back to your room?"

Ryan smiled. "I'm fine." He patted her hand. "Seth and I were just talkin' about stuff."

"Like, the next _Star Wars_ convention?" Summer made a face and threw a chip at Ryan, nailing him in the nose.

Ryan's eyes widened. "Oh, it's on now, Summer." He laughed and threw the chip back at her.

Ryan discreetly pelting Seth with popcorn had been easy to overlook. Four teenagers lobbing candy, chips and popcorn at each other was another matter. A nurse broke up the food fight within five minutes, banishing Seth and the girls from the hospital for the night and escorting Ryan back to his room.


	11. Chapter 11

See Chapters 1, 4, 7, 8 and 9 for Disclaimers

"It's a Mom Thing"

by Lisa O'Brien

Copyright September, 2003

AUTHOR'S NOTE: Thank you again for all the reviews and feedback. They truly made this story a joy to write.

**CHAPTER ELEVEN**

**Friday, October 10**

**9:00 a.m.**

Ryan packed for his departure from the hospital, anxious to get home so he could sleep in his own bed, eat dinner at the dining room table with the Cohens and hang out with Seth and the Playstation. Old habits die hard, though. He kept his expectations low so he wouldn't be too disappointed when Dr. Jenkins decided to keep him for another day or two.

Sandy breezed into the room. "The paperwork's done. We just need to wait for Dr. Jenkins to sign off and you're outta here." His eyes widened. "What're you doing?"

Ryan grinned mischievously. "Brain surgery."

"Let me get that. You're not officially released, yet." Sandy took over.

Ryan stretched out on the bed, silently watching Sandy pack the clothes, books and games that had accumulated in the room since Ryan's hospitalization. "Where's Kirsten? I thought she'd be here."

Sandy chuckled. "She's at home. She's probably re-decorated the guest room by now." He folded a shirt and put it in the bag. "She wants you to stay in the house until you're back on your feet. She probably won't sleep if you don't."

"Makes sense. That's cool." Ryan leaned back and folded his hands on his stomach. "We probably oughta stop at the administration office on the way out. I probably need to make some arrangements to pay the bill."

"Already taken care of." Sandy shook his head. "You're on Kirsten's health policy through her company. You are a dependent, now. We met the deductible your first night and passed into 100% care by the time you left the step-down unit."

Ryan blinked. "Then I'll pay you guys back."

"It's not gonna break the bank, Ryan. Don't worry about it." Sandy stopped and turned to him. "Ryan, if you'd done something dumb like trying to jump from the roof into the pool. Or jumping your bike off the pier, I'd be makin' you pay us back." He shrugged. "But you had appendicitis. It doesn't count."

"Sandy -"

"Ryan, medical care is part of the package. Period. End of conversation." As though that wasn't enough, Sandy changed the subject. "Look at all this stuff."

Ryan sighed and put his hands behind his head. "I guess it's kinda lucky, since I'm probably gonna have to find a new job, anyway."

"Kirsten let the manager at the Crab Shack know what was going on with you. And when Seth and I talked to him Sunday night, he said you can come back whenever you're up to it. The other waiters have been picking up your shifts." Sandy grinned. "I got the impression that he wouldn't let you quit if you wanted to." He winked.

Ryan hadn't thought about the Crab Shack. There had been too many other things to worry about, but knowing he could go back was a good thing.

"You know, Ryan, if you ever decide you don't want to work . . .."

Ryan nodded. "I know, but I do. I've had other jobs before, but sometimes I screwed 'em up and sometimes they got screwed up for me."

Sandy nodded and went back to packing.

There was a knock on the door and Dr. Jenkins entered. "Well, Ryan, while I can honestly say I'm sorry to see you go, we need the bed for someone who's really sick." She winked.

Ryan smiled shyly. "Thanks for everything, Dr. Jenkins."

The doctor stroked Ryan's hair, still smiling. "I told you I was very fond of you." She turned serious. "Now, I want you to take it easy at home for the next week. You can start back at school for half-days a week from Monday next." She pointed a warning finger. "No physical education. No sports. No roughhousing with your mates."

Ryan nodded. "When can I go back to full days? I'm . . . sort of on probation."

Sandy squeezed Ryan's shoulder. "That's all been taken care of, Ryan."

Dr. Jenkins turned from Sandy and focused on Ryan. "It will probably be about two weeks. Remember, Ryan, you've had surgery twice and you've been taking no exercise and had little physical activity. You'll probably find the first half-days to be a bit much." The doctor reached into her pocket and handed Sandy a tube of antibiotic cream. "Put that on your incision after you shower. And I'll see you in my office on Monday to remove the stitches from your hand. I'll check the others and take them out if they're ready then, okay?"

Ryan nodded.

"Any questions?"

"No." Ryan smiled shyly. "Thanks doesn't seem like enough."

Dr. Jenkins kissed Ryan's cheek. "You take care of yourself, Luv." She winked. "And take care of your family."

"I will," Ryan promised, feeling his face flush.

"If only you were 20 years older." Dr. Jenkins patted Ryan's cheek, squeezed Sandy's arm and left the room.

Sandy threw his hands up. "I just don't get it."

Ryan grinned. "Neither do I." The grin widened. "But I'm not gonna complain." He turned and threw his legs over the side of the bed. "Let's blow this joint."

"Be careful there, Ryan," Sandy cautioned as Ryan lowered his feet to the floor. "Aren't we supposed to wait for a wheelchair?"

"I was hoping you wouldn't notice." Ryan sat in the chair. He regarded Sandy, who had finished packing. "I want to go see Dawn."

"Sure. One day next week."

"Today. Before we go . . . home." Ryan focused on his shoes. "There are things I need to say to her and I wanna get it over with."

Sandy sat on the bed. "I can understand that, Ryan, but does it have to be today? I'm not even sure they'll let you visit her. You're a minor."

Ryan raised his head. "They will if you sign me in. Dawn took us to visit my dad a few times before his trial."

Sandy sighed. "All right. But I have to go on record to say I think you should give yourself a little more time to heal."

"That's what I'm trying to do, Sandy." Ryan's voice was quiet.

The arrival of a wheelchair and an aide interrupted further discussion. "Patient services is stacked up and I lost the straw pull," Rachel announced. "I have the unfortunate duty of escorting you out of the hospital, Ryan." She winked.

"You ladies do know he's 16 and doesn't have a car, right?"

"Way to salt my game, Sandy," Ryan muttered as he settled in the chair.

Rachel laughed. "Let's get you home to your family."

**9:30 a.m.**

Ryan watched the scenery pass as Sandy drove to the Central Jail in Santa Ana. The sun was bright and a light breeze stirred the leaves on the trees. Weather like that was perfect for riding to the pier with Seth, or hanging out with Marissa. Getting out of the hospital on such a nice day wasn't too bad. Telling your mother to stay out of your life didn't seem right.

Ryan shifted in the seat as Sandy turned into the parking lot. The ride in the Beemer hadn't been as smooth as he remembered, making his side ache. He glanced away from the passenger window as Sandy pulled the car into a parking space. He caught a glimpse of himself in the rearview mirror, hoping Sandy wouldn't notice his pallor or the nervous twitch in his right leg. Sandy wouldn't let him go through with this if he did.

"Are you sure you're up to this?"

Ryan flinched as Sandy squeezed his shoulder. He took a shuddering breath. "I need to do this, Sandy." He turned back to the window. "It's just . . . not easy. I thought . . .." He gestured helplessly. "I don't know what I thought."

"All the more reason for you to go home and rest."

This time, Ryan pulled away when Sandy touched his arm. "I'm fine," he insisted. "Really." He wasn't fine. He was pretty sure Sandy knew it, too. It was now or never, though. If Ryan didn't cut Dawn out of his life today, he never would.

"Look, Ryan, if you're worried about your mother showing up, don't. Kirsten and I talked and I told your mother not to come around unless she got her act together."

Ryan put a hand on his right leg, hoping to stop the twitch. "Won't work. She'll get out of here, get drunk and do something stupid." Sandy wasn't going to let him go through with it. He didn't understand.

"That doesn't mean it has to be today, Ryan. She can't make bail. She won't be out for a while. At least a few weeks." Sandy turned the key and started the engine.

Panic turned to anger. "I have to do this now, Sandy!" Ryan shouted, instantly regretting it. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the shocked expression on Sandy's face. He put his face in his hands. "I'm sorry," he mumbled.

Sandy cupped the back of his neck. "It's okay."

Ryan wished he could be calm and always in control like Sandy and Kirsten. He couldn't. He was too much like Dawn, Trey and his father. Someday he'd stop caring who he hurt, just like they had. "No, it's not okay. That's the problem." He took a deep breath and turned to gaze out the window. "If I don't do this now, I won't be able to do it. Dawn'll show up again, say she's sorry and cry. And I'll tell her I love her and I'll give her another chance and she'll hurt me all over again." His voice broke. "Just like it's always been." Carefully, he opened the door and pulled himself out of the car.

Ryan heard Sandy's door close as he made the slow trek toward the entrance to the Women's Jail.

**9:50 a.m.**

Ryan waited in a chair in the lobby while Sandy took care of the inevitable paperwork. He shifted in the plastic chair, trying to get comfortable. He couldn't concentrate and he had to find the right words to say to Dawn when he cut her out of his life.

It should have been easy. Dawn had, after all, left him twice. She would always be his mother and he still loved her, but the cycle had to stop. He had to stop it since she'd never been able to.

Sandy entered the lobby accompanied by a tall, muscular corrections officer. "Rick's gonna take you back to a private visitor's room. I've asked him to stay in the room with you. For my own peace of mind."

Ryan nodded and stood. "Thanks, Sandy." His stomach turned and he swallowed convulsively. He didn't have the courage to face Dawn. He never had. That was why he'd always forgiven her.

Sandy squeezed his shoulder. "I'll be waiting out here."

Ryan managed a wavering smile and squeezed Sandy's hand. It took effort to get his legs moving as Rick crossed the lobby.

Rick opened a door. "We'll go through here." He waited for Ryan to pass through the door, then followed. "There's no contact, no passing things -"

"I know the drill," Ryan said quietly, keeping his eyes on the floor. "It's the same in Chino, where my dad is."

"Oh." Rick led the way down the hall, through another door and another hallway. He opened the door, checked inside and stepped back. "Your mom's already been brought in. If anything happens, just get out of the way and let me handle it, okay?"

Ryan nodded and stepped into the room. It was small, with a table and four plastic chairs like those in the lobby.

"Oh, my God, Ryan. I can't believe you're here." Dawn stood. She was wearing a blue jumpsuit, just like the one he'd worn in juvie. "They told me I couldn't see you, baby."

"Go ahead and have a seat, ma'am." Rick closed the door and crossed his arms.

Ryan carefully seated himself at the table, watching Dawn as she did the same. Her hair was greasy and stringy and she had dark circles under her eyes. Without make-up, she looked ten years older. She looked like she'd been on a bender and he wondered if she'd conned one of the guards into sneaking booze to her. The thought of what she'd have to do for it made him shiver. When she reached for his hand, he drew back. "Don't."

"Baby, I'm so sorry. I don't know what got into me." Tears glistened in Dawn's eyes. She was so good at looking sincere. "Please, don't hate me. I didn't mean -"

Ryan knew the speech by heart. He didn't need to hear it again. Dawn never meant anything she did or said. She never stopped doing them, though.

"I don't hate you. I _never _could." Ryan cocked his head and his eyes narrowed. "Loving you hasn't been enough, either." He took a deep breath. Now, or never. "I can't do this anymore . . .." He'd almost called her Dawn. That would've hurt her. He wasn't here to hurt her, although it would be easy. He knew what buttons to push. He was her son. "I can't do this anymore, Mom. I can't see you or talk to you until you straighten your life out."

"It'll be different this time, Kiddo. I swear it will." Dawn's voice broke. "Just you and me. We'll get a place, I'll quit drinkin' -"

"And you'll meet somebody like A.J. or worse," Ryan said through gritted teeth. The ache in his side reminded him of how much worse things could get. He glared at her. "It won't change. You _won't_ change."

"No." Dawn sniffled and shook her head. "I've had time to think and this lawyer's gotten me into a program." She smiled through her tears. "Please forgive me, Ry. I'm so, so sorry." She reached for his hand again, catching it before he could pull away.

"No contact, ma'am." Rick took a step forward.

Ryan's heart pounded as he forcefully pulled his hand away. "I can forgive you, Mom. But I can't forget what you did." He ran a hand through his hair. "Before, I tried to forget because it was the only way to survive."

"Ryan, baby, I love you. I don't want to lose you." Dawn covered her mouth and sobbed.

"Then prove it, Mom. Get help. Quit drinking." Ryan's voice broke and he took a deep breath, waiting for the wave of anger and sadness to pass. He knew that would never happen. "I didn't know any better when I was little, or after Dad got arrested. But now I know that family's don't have to be like ours is."

"I'm sorry we're not rich like the Cohens," Dawn spat. She slapped the table with both hands, then pushed away from it and stood, knocking the chair over.

Ryan pushed his chair back, ready to get out of the way when she came at him over the table.

"Have a seat, ma'am." Rick took a step toward Dawn. "Visit's over if I have to tell you again."

Dawn glared at Ryan, as though the warning were his fault. He watched anxiously as she slowly righted the chair and sat.

Ryan's heart was pounding and his voice shook. "Rich has nothing to do with it, Mom. I got a job so I wouldn't have to depend on Sandy and Kirsten for money." Dawn would've known about the job if she'd bothered to ask him about what he'd been doing since she abandoned him. "The Cohens care about each other. They _take care_ of each other."

"_I_ took care of you! I've taken care of you every day since you were born!" Dawn shouted. "I changed your damn diapers and I cleaned you up when you puked all over yourself. I put clothes on your back and I fed you. Dammit! I took care of your father and your brother and you for years!"

"Yeah, and you never stopped reminding me of what a pain in the ass I was," Ryan said through gritted teeth. "My all time favorite, though, is what a mistake I was."

Dawn dropped her eyes to stare at the table.

Ryan took several deep breaths, trying to will his heart to slow down before it exploded. "Do you know how many days Sandy and Kirsten missed at work when I was sick? How many nights they stayed at the hospital with me? Instead of going to the pier, or the beach, Seth spent a Saturday and Sunday with me in a hospital room." The memory of Saturday made him shiver. He didn't know why he bothered. Dawn didn't care about him. "They didn't do those things because they had to, but because they cared about me." He waited for the words to sink in. "You didn't miss any work when I had my tonsils out and I was only 7."

"I wasn't a lawyer and I didn't own my own company." Dawn leaned back, crossing her arms as she glared at him. "Too bad, so sad, Ryan."

"One day, Mom! You took me to the hospital and you left." Ryan's voice rose. "You weren't even there when I woke up." He pounded a fist against the table. "And you and Dad didn't miss any partying, either," he sneered. He sat back and put a hand to his right side. "I knew you were never about the mom thing -"

"But Kirsten is," Dawn scoffed, but not in time to hide the fact that he'd scored a direct hit with that one.

Ryan's smile was cold. "She was there when I was sick. I didn't even want her there because I wasn't used to it. Thanks for that, Mom," he said sarcastically. "So were Sandy and Seth." He leaned forward, resting his hands on the table. "Kirsten worries about what I eat, when I eat, whether I'm wearing the right clothes for the weather, whether I'm working too many hours, getting enough sleep."

Dawn bit her lip, signaling another direct hit. Tears formed in her eyes.

"You never did that for me and Trey." Ryan took a deep breath, shutting her out. Hurting her should have felt good, but it didn't. "If you get your life together, we can talk." He pushed the chair back.

"Don't do this to me, Ryan," Dawn begged, tears falling fast. "You're all I have left, Ryan. Please forgive me." She sobbed and ran a hand through her hair. "I love you, Ryan. Don't just leave me."

Ryan felt a tear on his cheek and swiped at it. "I have to, Mom. I don't wanna be like you and dad and Trey, hurting people because I hurt." Another tear fell. "I can't let you hurt me again, Mom." He stood, put his head down and slowly walked to the door before she could make him change his mind.

Rick opened the door and Ryan left, ignoring Dawn's pleas for forgiveness. Silently he followed the C.O. through the halls leading back to the lobby. There was a hollow feeling in Ryan's chest. Even though this time, it had been his decision, it was the same feeling he had the day he found the house in Chino empty and the morning Dawn abandoned him with the Cohens.

Ryan concentrated on the back of the C.O.'s boots as he followed him through the last hallway. His vision blurred and he wiped his eyes on his sleeve. He ground his teeth together, fighting the urge to break down. He was 16 and he'd be damned if he would cry in front of the burly guard. Or Sandy.

Sandy stood when they entered the lobby. Ryan stopped and crossed his arms, focusing on the floor while Sandy talked to the guard. Unconsciously, he shifted from one foot to the other.

"Come on, Ryan, let's get you home." Sandy put an arm around his shoulders and steered him toward the door.

Ryan managed to reach the car before the wave of emotion broke over his head. He gripped the handle of the door and lowered himself to the ground, drawing his legs up and covering his face with his hands.

"Ryan?" Sandy's voice was filled with concern.

Ryan felt Sandy settle next to him.

"It's gonna be okay, Ryan. Everything's gonna work out," Sandy assured quietly, rubbing his back.

After a minute, Ryan took a deep, shuddering breath and wiped his eyes on his sleeve. He didn't lift his head because he couldn't let Sandy see that he'd been crying. "I told Dawn I wouldn't see her unless she got her life together."

Sandy nodded. "Yeah, I figured that out. I'm sorry it came to that, Ryan."

Ryan kept his head down. "If it's the right thing to do, then why does it hurt so much?" His voice broke.

"Maybe because you're not as damaged as you thought you were."

Ryan frowned, regarding Sandy out of the corner of his eye. "I don't remember . . .." His hands were shaking. He clasped them together to make it stop.

"It was something you said to Seth on Monday."

"How do you know about it?" Ryan vaguely remembered the conversation.

"He didn't understand and he actually asked his old man for advice." There was pride in Sandy's voice. "Ryan, this was probably one of the hardest things you'll ever have to do in your life. The fact that you feel bad about it is better than feeling nothing at all."

"Yeah, I guess." Ryan shrugged helplessly. Right now, he'd prefer the nothing.

"It'll pass, Ryan. Just give it some time." Sandy squeezed his shoulder. "Are you ready to go home?"

Ryan nodded silently. When he tried to stand, he found that getting down was much simpler than getting up. The ache in his side turned sharp as he tried to lift himself to his feet. He gritted his teeth and turned to reach for the door handle. Not a smart move.

"Let me give you a hand." Sandy stood.

Ryan started to refuse. He'd gotten himself into this situation. He'd get himself out. That's how it had always been.

The Cohens took care of each other. That included Ryan. He took Sandy's offered hand, accepting help to get back on his feet.

Sandy unlocked the door and opened it.

"Thanks for bringing me here, Sandy. I'm sorry about earlier." Ryan squeezed his guardian's arm, then carefully lowered himself into the car.

"What happened earlier?" Sandy winked and carefully closed the door.

**10:30 a.m.**

"We're here." Sandy turned to Ryan after shutting the engine off.

Ryan took a deep breath and stared up at the house. "I . . . I think I'm gonna go out back . . . I'm not . . .." He ran a shaking hand through his hair.

"Go ahead." Sandy nodded and squeezed the boy's arm. "Be careful on the driveway, okay?"

Ryan quietly opened the door and pulled himself out of the car. Sandy waited a second, then got out of the car and followed the boy around the side of the house.

Once Ryan was safely seated at the table outside the poolhouse, he turned and walked back around to the front. He opened the front door and stepped inside.

"Where have you two been?" Kirsten stopped and looked past Sandy. "Where's Ryan?"

"He's out back." Sandy quietly closed the door. "I took him to see Dawn."

"Why? What did she say? What did she do?" Kirsten's pale skin reddened. "If I get my hands on her . . .."

Sandy held up a hand. "Ryan wanted to go, Kirsten." He took a deep breath. "He told her he doesn't want to see her unless she gets some help."

Kirsten put a hand to her mouth. "Oh, Sandy. I should go talk to him."

Sandy grabbed Kirsten's arm. "Give him some time. It wasn't easy for him."

"I know that. All the more reason for me -"

"I think this is something Ryan wants to deal with on his own."

Kirsten inhaled, then nodded. "You're probably right."

Sandy followed his wife into the kitchen, smiling as she walked to the back patio door and craned her neck, stopping when she spotted Ryan at the table by the poolhouse. He stepped up behind her and rubbed her shoulders. "He's okay, babe."

Kirsten put her hands over his. "I know that." She sighed. "I just can't stand seeing him hurt."

Sandy kissed the top of her head. "It'll pass."

Kirsten leaned against her husband. "When?"

**12:55 p.m.**

Rosa stood at the stove, alternately stirring a pot of soup and putting together a sandwich. Kirsten entered the kitchen, stopped and took a deep breath.

"Oh, Rosa, that smells wonderful. Is that chicken soup?" Kirsten smiled.

"Mrs. Cohen's recipe had too much basil, but I worked with it." Rosa returned the smile.

"Don't let Sandy hear you say that." Kirsten snickered. "Is that Ryan's lunch?"

Rosa nodded. "He's still outside. I was going to bring it out for him." She pointed to the clock. "It's getting late."

Kirsten nodded. "I'll take it out."

"Miss Kirsten, Mr. Sandy said Ryan needed some time by himself."

"He's had two hours and twenty-five minutes." Kirsten smiled and gave Rosa a conspiratorial wink. "And Sandy's at the office."

Rosa laughed. She placed the plate with Ryan's sandwich on a tray, got a bowl from the cabinet and ladled soup into it.

"Not too much. Ryan's appetite isn't back up to speed, yet."

Rosa ladled some of the soup back into the pot and set the bowl on the tray.

Kirsten pulled silverware and a cloth napkin from a drawer. She took a glass from another cabinet, went around the island, filled the glass with ice and got a Sprite from the fridge.

As Kirsten picked up the tray, Rosa walked to the back door and opened it for her.

"Good luck," Rosa said as Kirsten stepped onto the patio.

Kirsten confidently approached the table, where Ryan was seated with his back to the house. "I brought your lunch out for you, Ryan." She set the tray on the table.

Ryan wiped his eyes, but kept his head down. "Thanks. Ah . . . I'm not really hungry."

"That's good, because it's just a sandwich and a little bit of chicken soup." Kirsten stroked his blond hair. "You need to eat if you're going to get your strength back."

Ryan pushed the chair back and slowly stood. At first, Kirsten was afraid she'd said something wrong. She was surprised when he hugged her.

Kirsten laughed quietly, putting her arms around Ryan to return the hug. "What's that for?"

"The mom things," Ryan said quietly.

Smiling, Kirsten turned to kiss the top of Ryan's head, which was resting on her shoulder. "At least someone appreciates them."

"When you don't have it . . .." Ryan pulled away and focused on the pool. "I went to see Dawn," he said reluctantly.

Kirsten brushed the hair from Ryan's forehead. "I know. Sandy told me." She sighed. "I'm sorry doesn't cut it. I think you made the right decision, though, Ryan. For you." She paused. "It's not your fault that you had to make it."

Ryan put his head down.

Kirsten hugged the boy. "It's gonna be okay, baby. You'll see." She pulled back and lifted his chin. "You're part of this family. Where you belong."

Ryan nodded silently and gave her one of those sad, half-smiles.

Kirsten would take what she could get. She patted the chair. "Now, sit down and eat your lunch." She was disappointed when Ryan sat and listlessly picked at the sandwich. Two hours and twenty-five minutes, apparently, hadn't been long enough. She smoothed his tousled hair. "I'll be inside if you need me."

Rosa was bringing a tray out as Kirsten neared the house. She waved the other woman off, then quickened her pace to get the door.

"Pobre si." Rosa set the tray on the island. "We can't just let him sit out there by himself."

"I don't like it either, but we have to," Kirsten returned sadly.

**6:30 p.m.**

The family was seated at the table, having their first dinner together in more than ten days. Sandy had been talking about the people at his new firm who pitched in to cover for him while he was out of the office. Ryan had been too busy picking at his dinner to listen.

"Are you feeling okay?" Kirsten touched Ryan's arm.

Ryan looked up from his plate. "Fine." He pushed his plate away. "I'm just not hungry. Sorry."

"The kitchen's always open." Sandy smiled.

"Are you ready, Miss Kirsten?" Rosa stepped into the doorway leading from the kitchen.

"Yes, thanks, Rosa."

Ryan placed his silverware on the plate, slowly standing to help Rosa clear the table.

"Oh, no, Ryan." Rosa chuckled. "You're going to sit down and let me do my job." She took the plate from his hands and gently urged him back down to the chair.

"Thank you, Rosa." Kirsten waited for Rosa to leave, then turned to Ryan. "Sandy and I wanted to talk to you about the guest room."

Ryan frowned, his brows knitting together. Maybe they'd changed their minds about him staying in the house.

"It's not a permanent move, unless you want it to be," Kirsten informed.

"If Ryan moves into the house, can I move out to the poolhouse?"

Sandy and Kirsten turned toward their son. "No, Seth," they said in unison.

Seth held up his hands. "Had to try."

"It's up to you, Ryan. You can decorate the room any way you want. We'll get paint and wall paper and linens and furniture." Kirsten smiled, although Ryan could see she was worried about him. "It's your decision."

Ryan was starting to worry about himself. He should be over Dawn, but he wasn't. He should've come home and let Kirsten and Sandy deal with her if she ever showed up looking for him. He didn't think he was genetically capable of ever making the right decision. His family proved that time and time again.

"And don't feel like you have to move into the house," Sandy chimed in. "In fact, I've told Kirsten that no 16 year old kid is gonna voluntarily give up a private place with a private entrance to live under the constant watchful eyes of the parental units." He gestured toward Seth. "Seth's desire to move out to the poolhouse being Exhibit A."

"Another mystery solved," Ryan muttered.

Sandy frowned.

Ryan waved and shook his head. "Nothing."

"You don't have to decide tonight." Kirsten squeezed Ryan's shoulder. "And if you want to stay in the poolhouse, we can re-decorate it."

"Either one is already nicer than any place I've ever lived," Ryan said quietly, focusing on the tablecloth. "I'm kinda tired." He pushed his chair back. "'Night." He stood and left the dining room.

Ryan closed the door of the guest room, kicked his shoes off and stretched out on the bed. He turned to his left side and stared at the wall, unconsciously wrapping his arms around his middle. For the first time in his life, he was part of a real family. How long would it take him to screw it up?

**9:10 p.m.**

The house was quiet when Ryan ventured out of the guest room. It was Friday night, so he guessed the Cohens had gone out. He heard the television as he walked into the kitchen and followed the sound into the den.

Kirsten paused whatever she was watching. "Hey. Are you hungry? I can fix you something to eat."

Ryan shook his head and entered the den, sitting on the love seat. "Where're Sandy and Seth?"

"They started playing one of those video games and were making way too much noise. I sent them to bond over a game of pool, so you'd have some peace and quiet." Kirsten smiled slyly. "Well, actually, I wanted the peace and quiet."

"What're you watching?" Ryan gestured toward the T.V.

"_As Time Goes By_."

"Is it okay if I join you?" Ryan hadn't meant to sound so hesitant. After the way he'd been acting today, Kirsten probably needed some peace and quiet away from him, too.

A smile lit Kirsten's face. "Of course you can, Ryan."

Ryan swallowed the lump in his throat. To cover, he stood and gestured toward the kitchen. "I'm gonna get something to drink. Do you want anything?"

"I'm fine, thanks." Kirsten gestured toward a full glass of iced tea on the coffee table. "Take your time. I'll wait."

The weight of remorse Ryan had carried all day was finally gone. He smiled shyly and put his head down as he walked into the kitchen. He hadn't screwed anything up by brooding over his decision to get away from Dawn for good. Unlike Dawn, Kirsten understood how he felt and it didn't make her jealous.

Ryan set his glass and can of Sprite on the table and sat on the couch next to Kirsten. "Which one did I miss on Sunday?"

"The one where Jean got on the Internet."

"Can we watch that one?"

Kirsten stroked Ryan's hair. "Of course." She pointed the remote at the DVD player and flipped through the menu.

As the opening credits started, Ryan leaned his head against Kirsten's shoulder just like he had so many times in the hospital. Dr. Jenkins had been right. Sometimes, your mom was the person who was there for you and took care of you.

Kirsten put her hand in his. Things really were going to be okay. At 16, Ryan had a real family and a real mom.

**The End**


End file.
